


Trapped  (Larry Stylinson)

by harrystylescat77



Series: Prisoner  (Larry Stylinson) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Domestic Violence, Harry is a stripper, Harry may or may not go crazy, Louis has an abusive boyfriend, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, OCD, Rape but it's not described, Stripper AU, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:06:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 51,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrystylescat77/pseuds/harrystylescat77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is a world-famous male stripper that goes by the name of Rylan Slash with a scary past and a bad case of Ocd. He meets Louis Tomlinson; a curious, stupidly persistent man with an abusive boyfriend and a dream of making Harry feel again. Will meeting Louis be the best thing that has ever happened to Harry, or will he slowly drive him insane?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is also in my Wattpad- harrystylescat77
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

Louis' P.O.V.

I didn't really know why I was there.

It's not like Travis ever let me go anywhere on my own; he was with me. I thought that maybe he was having one of those days where he just wants to have fun. Everybody has those days.

But going to a gay strip club, filled with lots of other men- good-looking men, men that could easily swoop me up and take me home without him noticing- now that was something different.

I felt an arm go around my waist and a large hand tightly grab mine and I looked back over my shoulder to see Travis's deep brown eyes looking down at me with a crease in his forehead.

"Let's leave, Louis, I don't like it here. I don't want anyone touching you but me," he growled in my ear.

That was something he would normally say. He always wanted to keep me bundled up at home where it was safe and where I was all his. I knew it was just because he loved me, everything he did was out of love for me. But sometimes I wanted to go out to places, and that just didn't happen with Travis.

I nodded at him and turned around in his arms, taking my eyes off of the beyond beautiful dancer on the stage.

Earlier, I'd drunken up his performance. The tight shorts that clung to his small bum glittered and shone and he looked as if he were floating across the stage with his milky white skin. He kept his head down, only looking up once in a while to wink at one of the old men that would tuck wauds of money in his shorts.

He danced like no other, hips that could kill, and all the naughty things I could picture myself doing to those abs, shiny with sweat and who knows what else.

I felt I should've given some money, that was obviously why he was doing it. Though I didn't want to get too close, in fear that Travis would get angry.

So I stayed at the back corner of the relatively small room where Travis had originally placed me, telling me with a stern look not to move anywhere, and looked at the dancer's dark and unruly curls that were falling over his face from afar.

I was curious, and he was gorgeous. But I could never do that to Travis, no, he was my boyfriend. He loved me and I loved him more.


	2. Chapter One

Louis' P.O.V.

It was a rare occasion that Travis would go out for more than a couple hours and leave me with the house empty, only the steady pour of rain drops on the roof and the whistle of the kettle on the stove to keep me company.

But it happened once every couple months; Travis would go visit his mother, Beth, who had been diagnosed with stomach cancer and was given a year to live. She lived in Glasgow, which was about four hours away from our shared flat in Doncaster in the UK.

It was sad, really, and Travis didn't use to go and visit her and when she'd called him and told him she had cancer, he was overridden with the feeling of guilt that he had a break down and we almost went to the hospital.

Travis hadn't been taking it well, though, and his mother was getting worse, which meant there was less time for him to see her. He wanted to be by her side the whole time and help her, but he just couldn't stand the idea of leaving me alone at the house for more than two days.

So, having Travis gone for two days, the whole empty house to myself, I'd been getting bored, even though he'd just walked out the door two hours ago after a kiss goodbye.

Thunder crashed outside and I saw a flash of lightening out the kitchen window. Leaning up against the stove, I turned off the heat and poured the steaming water into a cup along with an awaiting tea bag.

Travis would always keep me busy and now, without him here, I didn't know what to do.

I knew it was almost guaranteed I would get in trouble if I went out somewhere, but that was only if he caught me. He wasn't to be back for two days, so I had a lot of time.

The image suddenly came into my head out of nowhere.

Short, snippets movement, of hips and wet hair, dangling in his green eyes. Flashes of a beautiful expansion of a chest, biceps, and deep collar bones showed before my eyes.

The guy at the club that Travis and I had gone to together. Travis had thought that for some reason everybody was looking at me, talking to me, and touching me when really, I was sitting by myself in the back corner, quietly watching the tall boy on stage while Travis went and got himself another drink.

We went home after that and he was mad for the rest of the night, not making me tea right before bed like he usually did, but I understood. He loved me and I appreciated his love, but I just thought that sometimes, when he would scream and shake his hands in front of his face at me, that he thought that maybe I didn't love him back, and that I somehow loved someone else.

I finished my tea, mentally cursing myself for the way the scalding hot liquid burned all the way down my throat, but I wanted to leave. I knew that I should probably wait until later, maybe catch him on his way out, so I waited a good three hours before getting ready to leave; wondering around our flat, receiving multiple texts from Travis asking what I was doing or if I'd gone anywhere and if so, where, to which all I had replied to around the lines of 'drinking my tea, babe, waiting for you to come home', everything that he wanted to hear and then some.

Travis was away so he would never know; besides, it wasn't like I wanted to marry the lad, just get to know him, I thought to myself, slipping on my Toms and grabbing an umbrella.

It was late June, so I didn't need a jacket and I locked the door behind me, opening up the umbrella and stepping out into the rain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Travis had taken the only vehicle we owned to drive to his mum's, but that was alright; the walk to the club was just under ten minutes and it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been because I had an umbrella. 

I glanced around the dark parking lot. The hour was quickly approaching one in the morning and I had no idea of where the boy would be, except for on stage, of course. 

I didn't know his real name, but I did know that he went by Rylan Slash, and he was world-famous. People (mostly old, fat men or slutty, beautiful, young girls) everywhere drooled over him daily and it made me wonder why he would stay in that particular small, local club in Doncaster when he could go somewhere fancier, more expensive. He was definitely rich enough to go anywhere he wanted. But he'd chosen to stay here.

I felt a little bad sneaking out and I knew that if Travis ever found out, he would be furious. I chose not to think of what he would do if he caught me, and looked down at my worn out converse, already soaked even though I had an umbrella.

The parking lot was almost of cars, most people having left already, and it was starting to pour harder, so I wanted to find him so I could talk to him, well, I didn't really know what I was going to say but I had to make up something quick because two figures came out of the building and slammed the door behind them. One of them was obviously the Rylan Slash, clad in only his sweat pants and a loose-looking hoodie. 

The other, I wasn't quite sure who it was. He was tall and large, definitely someone who could easily beat me up, so I kept my distance, standing towards the side of the long car park under my meager sized red umbrella, until I heard one shout to the other, "See you tomorrow, Harry. Oh, and nice job today, 'was one of your best preformances".

Harry, he'd called him, I was almost positive. This so called 'Harry' started to walk towards what I was guessing was his own car, small and black, and one of the three left in the parking lot. I started to walk over to him, at a brisk pace, seeing as he was nearing his car.

He spotted me and furrowed his eyebrows, but then rolled his eyes, probably wondering what I was doing but then realizing I must just be another one of his countless fans chasing him down after his show for an autograph.

I wasn't, and I made that clear when I stopped a couple yards away from him, suddenly not knowing what to say and I was sure I looked like a complete deer in the headlights.

He stopped too, but slowly got his keys out of his track pants' pocket and brought It to the door of his car, turning them, and unlocking it, all while still staring at me, obviously waiting for me to do something, anything.

"Uh.." It was an embarrassing, high-pitched noise that I somehow managed to squeak out.

"Listen, I should've been out of this place two hours ago but I just got out now, so I don't have time to stand here in the rain and chit-chat with you for half an hour. Do you want me to sign something for you? So I can leave?" I stood, looking at him with my mouth open and eyes wide. "Maybe sometime in the next fifteen seconds?"

"Th-that's not what I wanted at all, um," I swallowed thickly, biting my lip and I really should've prepared myself better.

He started to throw his duffle bag into the passenger seat of the car, and proceeded to slam the door a bit too hard.

"Alright, if that's not what you wanted, then I'm out, and so should you be. Which one's your car?"

My mouth opened and closed uncontrollably, I was just dead speachless and it wasn't just because he was utterly flawless.

"Well, do you not know how to speak? I asked you a question," his voice was perfectly rounded and husky at the same time, all too velvety and deep for me to comprehend normally.

"I, uh.. I walked," I answered shyly.

"Walked? In this weather? I'm already soaked and I haven't been out here for more than five minutes. But I guess you've got an umbrella," he observed, eyes scanning over my body and I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious of myself, dressed only in black skinnies and a striped blue T-shirt. 

My phone vibrated in my pocket three times, and for that I thought it must be Travis (mainly because he was the only one who ever texted me), so I reached into my pocket and grabbed it out. 

My eyes widened when I read what the text said and my breath caught in my throat because I knew that I was in big trouble.

'where the f are you? get back to the house right now, i'm waiting. had to turn around b/c of bad weather. Travis'

"Hey, you alright? Who was that?" And when I didn't answer Harry's questions, he tried again. "Is there a problem?"

"That was my boyfriend, and he's at our house," I talked slowly, breathing deeply to try and lower my racing heart, "I really shouldn't have come out here, I knew he'd catch me somehow," I finished, mumbling the last part. He didn't need to know everything about our relationship.

"I can give you a ride home, if you want. I mean, it sounds like he really wants you back there, don't want to make him upset, I'm guessing. And I was a tad rude to you, so let me drive you home?" He said, all in one breath. He must've felt bad, and I really didn't want to get a ride from Harry, I'd just be one more thing between here and his home, but it would get me there faster.

I contemplated it for a bit, then finally gave in after Harry had begged slightly.

And I thought he pretended that he didn't see when I'd slipped a small piece of paper with my number and name on it into his duffel bag on the floor by my feet.

I knew this would probably only make things worse, getting a ride home from Harry and giving him my number, and I started to shake slightly in the passenger seat, recieving a long side-glance from Harry.

And when he drove up my drive way, Travis' blue car was parked in the front, and as I got out of the car, quickly thanking Harry (without really calling him Harry because we didn't really talk about names, he was just focused on getting me home safely in the rain), I saw Travis come out of the front door of our flat and slam the door unnecessarily hard, face red with anger.

I sunk down, scared, grabbed my umbrella, thanked Harry again, and walked (or ran) up the path and onto the porch where Travis grabbed my arm, pulling me inside roughly.


	3. Chapter Two

Louis' P.O.V.

Travis' grip on my arm was getting very painful as he tugged me just before he released it and slammed the door to our bedroom. He'd pulled me up the stairs after Harry had dropped me off and I knew that it'd been a bad idea but I went with it anyway.

"Who the fuck was that?" Travis screamed, inches from my face. His face was red and he was at least three inches taller and fifty more pounds than me already and I felt myself wince back.

"Just someone I met at the store, babe. I was just at the store, we needed a few things," I managed to stutter out, surprised at how quick I'd come up with the lie.

"We needed a few things?" He repeated, raising his eyebrows at me. "I don't give two shits if we needed anything, you are not supposed to leave when I'm not here." He said, voice cracking. I swallowed thickly, getting angry but knowing that I shouldn't yell at him. "Fucking hell, Louis," he said, right before bringing his arm back behind his head and balling up his fist and I knew what was coming next.

It felt like I could feel the pain before he even touched me, it was that fast. The blow pushed was hard and I stumbled back a few steps, bringing my hands to the side of my face. I felt tears brimming my eyes and a couple spilled over and started to stream steadily down my cheeks.

I deserved that one, definitely. I shouldn't have even left the house, and I really shouldn't have lied to Travis about where I'd gone, he would eventually find out.

"You think this is a joke, Lou? Don't leave the house and I mean it!" He yelled, looking at me like I spoke some form of foreign language.

I sat down on the floor, still clutching at the side of my face where his fist had landed only seconds ago, it felt like it was throbbing and I was positive it was already turning blue and purple.

With my feet out in front of me, I let my head drop, not listening to what Travis was going on about but I guess I should've been.

He stormed out of the room and I was left to think about what I'd done wrong, which was just about everything at the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He came back about fifteen minutes later with an ice pack and a glass of water in his hands and set them down on the dresser I had been leaning up against, just resting.

"Are you alright, Louis? Come on, get up," Travis coaxed, voice softened and when I looked in his eyes, it was obvious he hadn't meant to be so mean to me.

I nodded slightly and he reached a hand down towards me and I took it gratefully. I was wobbly on my feet at first, feeling a bit light-headed but it passed when he grabbed hold of my shoulders, shaking them slightly in his tough grip.

"You know I only do this because I love you?" He waited for me to nod, and when i did, he continued. "I'm so scared someone's going to take you away from me, I want you to be with only me forever. Nobody else, Lou. Just me. You're all mine and I want to protect you. Don't go out there, Louis. Don't go outside when I'm not here because people like Mr. Whoever Gave You a Ride Home can be dangerous, you know that?" I nodded again, feeling a tidal wave of guilt wash over me for talking to Harry. "I'm sorry, baby, but I love you and I'm just protecting you."

"Love you, too," I said into his broad shoulder when he pulled me against him and squeezed me probably a little too hard and I winced at the sore spot around my eyes.

And of course I forgave him in an instant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry's P.O.V.

I reached in my bag for my black thong. It was the most comfortable of the five that I had. I preferred the shorts but Duce said I had to wear one of the thongs tonight.

It was a special night, performance wise. Other than that it was the same old swing of the hips, wink of the eye, and I get money in my pocket and my name all over the Internet.

I pulled on the tight thing and looked at myself in the small mirror that had come with the small changing room that I kept my stuff in while I was on stage. 

Duce was waiting for me outside the door so I picked up he pace and grabbed the oil on the table in he corner of he room, opening it and slathering on what should be considered way too much onto my torso, arms, and legs. 

I threw on my outfit that Duce had picked out for me that would be coming off my body in no more than fifteen minutes and I didn't really see why I should have to put it on in the first place but Duce always insisted that the men (and women) that came to the club like it better when I sexily peel off my clothes, leaving only this tight thong. The scratchy fabric of it scraped the skin on my back and I suddenly really hated my job. 

If I could pick another one, I would. But it just didn't make sense to; I was making good money, anyone who regularly went to clubs knew who I was, and I couldn't just stop doing it because Duce would never let me.

Duce was almost what I would consider a friend, but he wasn't because I would never let myself have friends; I didn't deserve them. But at he same time, a friend was everything I wanted, I went to my job at night, every other day of the week and Saturdays, by myself, I lived by myself, and I didn't even want to get started thinking about my family.

Checking myself in the small mirror one last time, I left the room along with the small bag of belongings I would bring everyday, and met with Duce in the hallway.

"You ready?" His voiced asked, rough from years of smoking. He was referring to the new dance routine I had learned for tonight; it was harder and involve more strenuous squats and odd stretches but nothing that I wasn't accustomed to.

"As I'll ever be," I answered, keeping my head down and stalking down the hallway towards the place where I entered the stage.

I felt him pat my back and give a sigh as he gently led me up the steps to the stage in the club where hungry eyes would get to drink in my body all night.

I would just do as I normally did; move my hips at just the right speed, give the men looks as if to say I actually like what I'm doing, and I would rake in the cash, just like that. 

Of course I didn't really like what I did, it'd turned me into an emotionless slut that takes his clothes off and shakes his butt for people but I couldn't just stop, I couldn't just leave Doncaster, too much had happened here.


	4. Chapter Three

Louis' P.O.V

I woke up with a headache, a sore back, and a throbbing on the side of my face. Memories from the night before flooded into my brain and I turned over onto my side to see Travis fast asleep with his back facing me. 

He seemed peaceful enough so I swung my feet over the side of the king sized bed (I usually waited for him to get up before I did but today I'd had an idea of going downstairs to make him tea and bringing it up to him) and pulled on a clean pair of boxers from the drawer beside it and slipped them on, tip-toeing across the wooden floor of our bedroom and down the staircase. 

In the kitchen, I put a kettle of water on the stove and turned it on, leaning against the counter top beside it to check my phone that I'd brought down with me. 

I shivered at the cold air that was hitting my bare chest and stared at the phone screen that was lit up with ten unopened messages from last night, all from Travis. I deleted them all without reading them, knowing that they'd all have basically the same words typed into them; 'where are you? I'm home early and why are you not here? Get your ass over here now, Louis.' 

What I didn't see, though, was a message or two from Harry, and I knew he was a busy person and all from being pretty famous, but I thought that from after watching Travis practically drag me inside the house yesterday after Harry'd kindly driven me home, that he'd send a short text maybe asking if I was okay, or something long those lines.

I noticed that the rain had calmed down significantly from when it had been pouring last night and I could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs, telling me Travis was awake and coming downstairs probably looking for me. 

I quickly tucked my phone behind some spices on the counter because if he saw it he would most definitely go through it and that was always annoying. 

"There you are, thank God. I thought you ran off again while I was asleep," he said while pulling me into his tank top clad chest for a hug and I internally groaned when he'd said 'again' because of course I felt bad for sneaking out yesterday. 

"No, I just came down here to make you some tea and I was going to bring it up to you but," I looked up at him in his arms and he stared back down at me, "you came down before I had the chance, so." 

"Aw, Lou, you're the sweetest, babe. And to think that I thought you had ran away," he smiled at the thought of his angel boyfriend before releasing me and taking a deep breath.

"So what are we doing today?" I decided to ask. It was Sunday, and we usually didn't do much on the weekends (let alone the weekdays because Travis had a fear that I would get abducted even when he was always right next to me when we went out, gripping my arm) but I wanted him to talk to me because that's what people in proper relationships did with each other.

Travis' face seemed to darken for a second. "Well I know for a fact that you're not going anywhere today. I need to finish up some things for work but that won't take very long," Travis replied, taking the kettle off of the stove and pouring it into a cup with a tea bag in it. 

He worked from home, conveniently, for some company that sold homes and he basically kept track of their website. It was a relatively easy job but it paid pretty well because somebody had to do it. 

I had been wanting to get a job for a while now, just to curb the boredom and get some extra cash, but I'd been keeping it from Travis, afraid he wouldn't like the idea of me having to leave him everyday or every other day to go spend time with other people. 

It was almost guaranteed to make him mad but I needed to get a job because we wanted to move out of the flat we were in now and get a bigger, better one, possibly closer to his mother. It was just that it costed money that we didn't have. 

"Trav, would you mind if I got a job?" I just came out with it, not wasting any time. 

He seemed to sort of choke on his tea, then swallowed, regaining his composure. 

"You want to get a job?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, we could use the extra money to get a new house and, you know, I am a grown man. Most grown men get jobs," I thought my point was pretty valid. 

Travis sighed and took a long sip of his steaming tea, leaning back on the counter behind him. "No, Louis. I don't want you to get a job," he flat out said. 

I gaped at him slightly and stood up straighter, wanting to prove my point that I would be a loyal boyfriend if I got a job and wouldn't ever cheat on him. "Why not? I wouldn't do anything bad, you know that. Don't you trust me?" 

"It's not that I-" Travis started to interrupt me but I didn't let him. 

"And how do you expect to buy his house you're always talking about getting? The one that's closer to your mom's, how are we supposed to afford it if you're the only one working?" He didn't say anything for a couple moments after that, I guess I had been a little more outspoken than Travis usually expects me to be. 

"If we just wait long enough then we'll have enough money saved up without you having to get a job to buy it," he tried. 

I got really mad then, there was no reason I had to stay cooped up in his small flat all the time with basically nothing to do. 

"Wait until when? Your mom flat-lines? Then what? It'll be too late, Trav,we'll be too far away from her," I hadn't noticed what I'd said until after I said it and I took in a gulp of air. He was really going to be mad now. 

And he was. He looked mad, fuming to be exact, at my comment about his mother and I guess it was a little rude because she really could die at any time in the next couple months but I hadn't really had any control over what was coming out of my mouth when I'd said it. 

My eyes widened when Travis turned around and pulled at his hair, breathing heavily and obviously trying to restrain himself from hitting me. But if he did hit me, then so be it. It wasn't like it had never happened before. 

But he didn't, and I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding but then I saw him grip a glass that was sitting on the counter by the sink, waiting to get washed. 

"Trav-" I tried to stop him because I knew what he was about to do, but it didn't matter; he was too far gone. 

He whipped the glass at the wall and it shattered with a loud crash, pieces of it falling straight to the floor in a pile but some splattered and flew out to the rest of he small kitchen. His chest was heaving and I didn't know if I'd ever seen him angrier, even last night, but I guess I'd just struck something in him when I said that about him mom. 

I instantly felt bad and I wanted to hug him but I knew (and he did, too) that that wouldn't be a very good decision. 

Travis sighed and I watched cautiously as he unclenched his palms, going and sitting down on one of the chairs for the dining table, burying his face in is hands. 

"I'm sorry, Lou. It's just with all this craziness; you want to get a job and you want to go out more and then my mom is a whole other story and my damn head hurts fucking all he time, Lou. I'm sorry," he said quietly into his hands, voice cracking slightly. 

I almost never saw him like this, raw and sad, and I felt bad. 

"Do you want medicine?" I offered for his headache in a small voice, trying to be helpful and not the bother like I had been a lot lately. 

"No," he snapped, taking his hands off his face and I could see tears smudged on his cheeks and his eyes were red. I looked down at my bare feet, not sure where else in the room to look. 

"Fine. You can get a job," he seemed to have a sudden change of heart and let me get a job and I knew the place I would look first but I wouldn't tell him. 

If he knew I was going to work at the club Harry works at, he would surely take my limbs off one by one. I shivered at the thought, then looked up at him, noticing I still hadn't replied. 

I made sure to grin at him from the table before I said anything. "Thanks, Trav. And you won't be let down, this is a good idea, trust me. We will have enough money in no time," 

"Yeah, yeah, just get something where you only work a couple hours a day because I will miss you too much if you get something any longer," he said fondly and my heart almost melted. 

But the question was, what would happen when I got a job with Harry? I didn't think I would make a good stripper so maybe I could do bar tending there. But if we got enough money to move, then we would have to move away from Harry, and I really didn't want to do that even if he hadn't really said anything meaningful to me just yet. 

I felt badly stuck.


	5. Chapter Four

Louis' P.O.V.

I stayed in the kitchen and watched as Travis grabbed a beer from the fridge then trudged past me, up the stairs to our room. I sighed and grabbed back my phone from where I'd hidden it on the table and went up to the extra bedroom we had upstairs.

I kept a small portion of my clothes in there just for times like these where I didn't want to go into our room and make a mad Travis even madder.

I pulled on a light colored button up shirt and a pair of the tightest jeans I had, settling for the worn out Toms by the door. I probably wouldn't get the job today, I was just going to look and see what there was available.

I was happy Travis was giving me a bit of freedom, but I wasn't happy that he wasn't happy. I wanted to please him as much as I could and I knew he didn't like it when I went anywhere without him but I wanted to get a job to help pay for things. I grabbed the keys that Travis had thrown onto the counter before going upstairs and I got into the car, immediately turning on the radio and looking for some kind of distraction.

I kept the music loud and my thoughts drifted to curly hair, green eyes, and simples that I'd seen when he wasn't even smiling, Harry. I didn't think i wanted to become a stripper (that would a lot of practice and training and it was no doubt the worst job to have in my place with Travis not wanting people to even look at me for more than five seconds) so I figured I could be a bartender or a waiter because there was a small restaurant section in the back of the club.

I walked in the doors of the club and since it was only around noon, only the bar section was open and there were few people there. I was thinking I could be a waiter or something easy like that, so I walked up to the bar, hands in my pockets, and looked at the large guy standing behind it. He was bald and in the midst of wiping out about a dozen shot glasses with a towel and setting them on the counter behind him.

He nodded at me once before he spoke up.

"What can I get you? You look like you could use a drink or four," he said in a voice deeper than I expected it to be. I didn't take it as an insult because I just figured it was true; I hadn't shaved the past two mornings, I wasn't feeling my best since Travis hit me, and Travis hit me.

So there was a large purple and black bruise around my eye and I actually somehow forgot about it because I was so wrapped up in trying to convince Trav to let me get a job even though it was constantly throbbing and felt like 500 degrees.

So I didn't blame him for saying I looked like I needed to get smashed. But, unfortunately, that wasn't what I was here for at all so I shook my head and smiled politely.

"No thanks, I actually came to see if I could maybe work here, if you guys needed any help or," I trailed off and watched the bartender think about what I'd asked him. He started to shake his head and I felt my stomach drop.

"No, sorry, kid. The boss just hired four new bartenders and three more waitresses so, I mean, unless you want to be a stripper cause we've only got three of those, but who wants to do that?" He laughed through the last part and shook his head, finishing up the glasses he was drying.

If I couldn't work here then I would have to work somewhere else which meant my plan to tell Travis I was getting a job for the money but it was really to, perhaps, cheat on him, failed.

And suddenly I felt like the worst boyfriend in the world. I didn't know what I would do if I found out that Travis was cheating on me and loved someone else unconditionally like he does me.

But the truth was, I didn't even need to get a job because we had enough money. I just told him that we didn't have enough money and we wouldn't be able to move if I didn't get a job.

Then he had given in and I'd gotten my way. My way was that I got to (hopefully) come into work every day or every other day and see Harry, the one I'm shouldn't have been interested in but I was.

He must have noticed the concentrating look on my face because he set the last glass and the towel down behind him and looked at me, eyebrows wrinkled.

"Wait, you're not actually considering it, are you? Cause I see the lads that walk out of here that do that and they don't look like the happiest people. You'd be much better off getting a job somewhere else if you need the money, even though it is a vey well paying job if you're good," the bartender said, putting both his hands on the counter in front of him and locking his elbows straight to look at me.

He was talking about stripping like it was something like a terrible sin. I knew there were definitely better job opportunities but I didn't think it was really that bad of a thing to do, maybe they actually enjoyed it and the bartender just saw them at the end of the night when they were tired and ready to go home.

And I was considering it, though, because Harry was doing it and just something about him just lured me in closer and it wasn't the fact that he was a stripper. I could do it.

I didn't need to be a waiter or a bartender (school is even required for most bartending jobs and I was not doing that) and I would even be closer to Harry and maybe try to get to know him (because he seemed weird and really cool but that interested me) if I worked with him.

And I might even like it.

But I just couldn't tell Travis.

"Where can I sign up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooow that was short and shitty but I swear to one direction next week's update won't disappoint ;)


	6. Chapter Five

Harry's P.O.V. 

Today was the first day. Someone had signed on to be a stripper here (God knows why) and being the best one of the three who worked here, I had been chosen to teach him for a week and then he would be added into our routines. 

My boss hadn't told me who the person was so I just had to keep an open imagination and hope for someone who wasn't annoying, persistent, too needy, too nosey, or all of the above and many more. 

But it must have just been my luck that when the person came into the back of the club (there was a studio there where we all practiced our routines on our own time and it was basically always unlocked) I was face to face with Louis.

I vaguely remembered Louis (his name because he had creepily slipped it into the compartment between the seats in my car along with his number) because I had driven him home once but it was more because of how much he had gotten on my nerves. I didn't have time for people like him, people at all, really, and I was just being nice because it'd sounded like he had a pretty rough boyfriend and I only felt slightly had when I saw him get dragged into their house. I could only imagine the kind of yelling that had gone on after I had left.

Louis stood before me in probably the tightest pair of green pants I had ever seen and a loose fitting gray v-neck with long sleeves. He was probably going to regret wearing any of his outfit when the session is over.

"Um, hey. I was the one who signed up, my name's Lou-"

"I know. Did you bring any other clothes besides this?" I gestured at what he was waering, not even trying to not sound rude.

I heard him swallow and he started to shake his head. "I mean, I've got the hoodie that I came in with but other than that, no," he said in a small voice, stopping at least three feet away from me. 

I raised my eyebrows at him and gestured for him to follow me down the hallway to the studio where the training would actually take place. 

"You're going to want to bring something a little lighter next time. Like maybe some loose shorts. For now I'll have to lend you something because you can't work out in that," I talked and he was walking fast to catch up to me but I moved over in the narrow hallway so he couldn't get beside me and he got the message and stayed behind me.

"A-alright, I'll bring something better next time, I didn't know we would actually start today," I heard from behind me. We were almost to the studio. Just two more left turns and it was on the right.

"Of course we're starting today, you only have a week with me and that doesn't include the time you spend on your own training and trimming up your body. You're not fat so at least you don't have to lose weight but you do have a stomach so you might want to think about cutting back a bit and doing a few extra sit-ups," I finished and feeling satisfied with myself, finally coming to the door.

Louis didn't answer, which made me a little happier, and I pushed open the door and threw my stuff down that we would be needing. 

He slowly trailed in behind me and I watched as his eyes raked over the whole studio, feeling oddly proud that I could say I practiced in here. I looked at Louis' clothes then remembered I was going to lend him some, so I bent down and unzipped the duffel bag I had brought in with me. 

I heard Louis wander around awkwardly and I grabbed the smallest pair of gym shorts I could find in my bag (I was positive he was a couple sizes smaller than me because he was just tiny) and I stood up with them in my hands.

"So-"

"Here, put these on," I shoved them his way. At least I was getting paid double for doing this.

"Where should I go to change?" He asked quietly and I sighed.

"Louis, if you want to be a stripper you're going to have to get used to being around people in very little clothes, just change here, I'll go set some things up," I told him and I pulled my shirt off over my head, looking at my tattoos in the large mirror that covered the whole wall, then side glancing at Louis, who had just started to unzip his pants. I was already in my knee length gym shorts and running shoes so I didn't need to change anymore than I already was.

I wandered to the back wall of the studio where there was a door that led to a weight room. That's where I would show Louis the kind of exercises he should be doing at home and then we would work on the actual dancing part. I turned back to Louis before going into he room.

"Just come back here once you're done and I'll show you around," I told him and I saw that he didn't even have his shirt off yet. For signing up to be one Louis didn't seem all that fit for the job but I didn't know, maybe he could turn around.

"Oh, and leave your shirt off, you won't be needing it," I threw over my shoulder at him.

When he came into the weight room where I was waiting, his arms were crossed over his chest and I didn't think it was because he was cold. I saw he had a couple sputters of tattoos on his upper body but none that really caught my eye. 

"You good? Alright, I'm just going to show you what you should be doing at your house because we want the time that we have here to be focused on just the dancing," I began saying and started walking towards the middle of the room where there was a large mat on the floor.

Louis kept quiet but when I looked over at his I saw that all too familiar gleam in his eyes and that stupid smirk on his face that I really didn't like the looks of.

"So, these are all things that you can do at home. You don't need any machines for these them so that's good."

I walked Louis through a couple dozen difference small exercises and even made him do some, letting myself just stand back and watch his weak muscles flex when he went down for his thirtieth press up. 

I kind of wanted to see how strong he was to almost gauge how good of a dancer he would be before we actually started to the dancing. I guess he wasn't in the best of shape because when I told him that that was about it and to repeat that every night, few beads of sweat just slowly trickled down his neck and he placed both his hands on his hips, resting on one foot. 

I could tell that he was interested in the job but it had seemed that maybe he was a little too interested in me, not the job, and that made me nervous. That couldn't happen, it just could not. 

The gleam in his eyes never left throughout the workout and I was beginning to wonder if he always smiled that much when he did sit-ups.

I was getting frustrated and I found my breathing to be off ten minutes before the training session was supposed to end because he would not stop laughing at everything I said and none of it was even funny and I just couldn't seem to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

One moment in particular that made me angry was when he had already changed back into his clothes and given me the shorts back, grabbing his phone and jacket and saying goodbye. He had just said it a little too cheerfully and it pushed me off the edge because he had no fucking right to do this to me. 

I strode over to him and he looked slightly frightened at first when I shoved him up against the mirror-covered wall that he was standing close to and put my one arm across his chest so he couldn't escape and the other to he side of his head, making him feel trapped.

His stares had just lingered on my body for a couple seconds too long and he'd thought that I hadn't seen them.

"You better knock off whatever game you're trying to play because if you think you can win me, if you think you can get me to love you, then your wrong, Louis. You are terribly far from the right answer. Just don't try. Don't fall in love with me. I'm a lost cause," I spat in his face and that definitely wiped the smirk right off his face and out the door and I could feel his breathing become heavy over my heated arm so I let to of him.

He slowly blinked and made his way out of the studio, grabbing his phone on the way out and not giving a second glance back. 

I didn't know if he would come back for another lesson tomorrow or not. 

I sure hoped not because anything he tried to do to get me to love him (and I was absolutely sure that was his goal because of that fucking stupid gleam in his eye that showed every time I glanced at him) wasn't worth it, because like I had told him; I was a lost cause.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck 
> 
> This probably has a ton of mistakes and weird words bc auto correct is a douchecanoe and I am too lazy to read through it

Louis' P.O.V.

Lying to Travis turned out to be easier that I'd expected it to be. The words seemed to have just flowed out of my mouth. 

'Yeah, Trav, of course I got the job and I actually started today. The hours worked out perfectly and they told me I was lucky because it was the last open spot as a waiter,' I had told him.

Of course I felt bad about it. But I guess not bad enough that I wanted to quit. I was almost excited to go to bed so I could wake up and go to another lesson with Harry tomorrow.

But then again, I had to go to another lesson with Harry tomorrow. Harry, who threw me up against the wall and told me off. It had definitely stung, but I wasn't ready to let that get in the way. 

Tomorrow, I was planning on marching into the studio with an even bigger smile on my face and maybe try and talk to him, maybe find out why he became a stripper and what his family is like. Things like that. I would try (and succeed, probably) to break his shell.

I was wiping down the table after I'd finished doing the dishes after dinner when Travis came up behind me and grabbed my hips, pulling my back tight against his chest. 

"Hey," I said quietly, dropping the wet rag that had been in my hand. 

"The table's good enough, let's got to bed, babe, you look nice," he nibbled on the outer shell of my ear and rubbed his thumbs into my hips. He did this sometimes, got really horny and then I'd end up doing things I would rather not.

I turned back around I his arms and pecked his lips before slipping out of his grasp and grabbing the wet cloth, bringing it over to the sink and rinsing it out.

"I wasn't done, come 'ere, Lou. Just want some love," he said, walking towards me with his arms wide open. But this actually kind of scared me, I didn't want to do anything tonight except sleep because I was tired, and here I knew he was as horny as ever.

I gave him a hug, uncertain, but then squealed when I felt him sharply squeeze my bum, one of his hands on each of the cheeks. 

"I just want to have sex with you," he mumbled into my neck, bending down and biting a mark into it. I winced and this didn't turn me on one bit.

"Trav, I'm really tired, can we just-" I tried pulling a way but he grabbed both of my wrists in his one large hand and pushed me back against the fridge, pressing them to my chest.

"No!" He snarled. "You're my boyfriend and I will fuck you whenever the hell I want."

I swallowed thickly and whimpered, making myself as small as possible under his tight grip and his big body looming over me.

And that was how that night went. 

And if I spent half of the night with my arse high in the air and face pressed into the covers on our bed instead of sleeping, it didn't matter because I couldn't have had done anything to stop it from happening if I'd tried.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was sore waddling into my lesson the next day, greeting Harry with the said smile and a hand wave. He looked tired, the bags and purple spots under his eyes and the lines on his forehead even more prominent than any other times I've seen him.

His eyes still shone the beautiful green that I would never for get, though. 

"Hi, Harry," I said as cheerfully as I could. He was strolling around the studio, pulling out what I assumed was the stripping pole out of the closet to the side wall.

I heard him sigh and that made my chest ache slightly. I wondered if he remembered what he'd said to me the last time we were in this room together. He probably did. 

I came dressed as he had told me this time; white gym shorts and and a grey v-neck that I would soon remove. My shoes were tightly laced and I threw my bag with only a few things in it down beside the door, the same place I had put it yesterday. 

Harry already had his shirt off and his shorts were red and a lot shorter than the ones he wore yesterday, raising a good four inches above his knees. I scanned the tattoos on his toned chest, the two swallows mesmerising me the most. 

I was going to ask about them, but it was like he could hear it coming because he spoke up right before I was about to.

"We're going to work on the pole first because it'a the easiest and we didn't do anything dance related yeaterday," he seemed to be ignoring what he'd said yesterday. Okay; so would I, then. 

He attached the pole to the centre of the room and stood next to it, looking at me through the mirror on the wall. I stood there awkwardly, not knowing if I should stretch or warm up first or what. 

"We don't really use the poles a lot but there is small part of our routine that uses them so I'll just show you that now," he said, dragging me over to to pole by my wrist.

He showed me how to stand when I was near the pole (where ever you are, whatever you're doing, just push your bum out, Lou, always), how to grip the pole and twirl myself around it, and he even told me that I had to (or else I would land flat on my face, he had said) hook my foot around the base of the pole before spinning at all times so I could let go everywhere else and not fall but he whole time all I could concentrate on was his body. His movements, his muscles, his breathing, just him.

I couldn't concentrate and my head was starting to hurt so when he asked me to actually try it I kind of just stood there and stared at his lips because they just looked so soft and plump. 

But then he thought that I hadn't understood him enough so he demonstrated it himself, expertly wrapping his body around the pole and seeming to defy gravity in more ways than one. 

I would focus on one thing at a time; first, how his hair would fall into his eyes when he spun around quick enough, then when I thought I had that part of him memorised, I'd move on his tight abs, flexing and unflexing as he did most of he workout instead of me, then I'd move onto his legs, hands, bum, anywhere I could get my eyes on without him noticing, really.

I didn't even know we were finished when we were, but Harry had just kind of walked over to the corner of the room and grabbed his stuff heading towards the door and I had to ask him if it had really been an hour. 

"Don't you go getting too keen on me now, Louis," he had called behind him as he dropped his bag by the door and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

I then realised that within the whole hour I'd had, I hadn't asked a single question about him personally like I'd meant to. Instead I'd spent it waddling around because of my sore arse and staring at Harry's too much. 

It hit me almost suddenly; Harry was odd. Something was off or something wasn't right. Maybe it was just his personality, maybe he was just quirky and weird like he didn't remember things he'd said just the day before or sometimes he'd stare at me for longer than three seconds, even when we talking. 

It was like one minute he would be cheerful and polite and the next he was completely pushing me away. He didn't want me under his skin and I could tell. My eyes drifted to his bag that he set on the floor and then to the door to the bathroom. He had just gone in, so he wouldn't come out for about a minute; I had time. 

Darting over to the bag, I quickly unzipped it. I didn't know what I was looking for and I didn't know what to expect, so I kept one eyes on the door while I rifled through the first pocket. My heart thudded loudly and I really didn't want to get caught because this could ruin the chances of me getting training. 

My hands suddenly fell onto a bright orange bottle; prescription medicine. But there wasn't just one, there had to be at least twelve, all shoved into the one pocket, one on top of the other. 

My head snapped up when faintly heard water running and I figured he was washing his hands. I quickly zipped up the pocket and got up from my position on the floor, standing awkwardly in he hallway.

When Harry came out he was wiping his wet hands on his shorts and looked up at me.

"Well you can leave, you know. You don't have to wait for me to walk you out," he said, tone harsh.

I winced and felt my face redden. He was right and I didn't know why I was still standing there.

I muttered a 'sorry' and made my way down the short hallway and towards the door at the end of it, Harry trailing behind me with his bag that I had gone through.

As I pushed through the door of the studio and stepped into the fall air, I couldn't help but think it was weird. If he needed to take all of those medications, then why were they all full and unopened? Every one of them looked brand new and I didn't think he could have gotten them all refilled at the same time because the doses were different. Why wouldn't he take his medications? 

And, also, I could help but wonder what they were for and why he would need so many of them.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ohgoshmy I feel so bad. I literally haven't updated this in about three weeks. Like. Wtf.  
> I'm so sorry and thank you so much to the people who will still continue to read this story after I went on an unannounced month-long hiatus.  
> I love you honestly  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Louis' P.O.V.

I could start with two sets of ten push-ups then do two sets of fifteen squats and if I was still good I could do three sets of ten sit-ups. But before I did any of that I definitely needed to stretch because I was proper sore still from the work out I did with Harry a couple days ago. 

"Lou? Louis!" I heard Travis call.

My head whipped around to the door frame in which he was leaning against and staring at me, trying to get my attention. I was in the basement because that was where I usually did my workouts but Travis hadn't noticed hem really util now.

"Yeah?" I asked, fiddling with the punching gloves wrapped tight around me hands and glancing nervously over to the punching bag on my right. I hadn't been punching it, but I was planning to.

"What the hell are you doing down here? You never workout," he observed, eyebrows knitting together. It was around dinner time and he had been cooking and I had been bored so I'd just figured, why waste time?

I shrugged, not knowing exactly how to answer because I didn't want to give away my job. (Oh, I'm a stripper but before I let hundreds of men touch my body and I'm going to need to get really fit so when they tuck money into my golden thong they at least have a nice view.) 

"Well, why don't you come upstairs, you don't need to workout, babe, I like your cute bum. Dinner's almost ready and I want to tell you something," he nodded at me then left to go upstairs after slapping my arse rather roughly.

So I didn't end up working out that night, no push-ups or sit-ups or crunches. But I did climb the stairs because Travis had told me to.

We sat down with our plates of pasta and glasses of white wine but I knew something wasn't right. Travis was in a weird mood. He wasn't happy but he wasn't throwing things, either. And he also wasn't crying so I was confused, really.

"Trav-" 

"I have to go see my mum again," there was a long pause, both of us remembering what had happened the last time he tried to go see her; he had to turn around because he didn't want to drive in the storm and had caught me sneaking out. My cheeks burned red and I looked down at me plate. "Except this time, Louis, I can't afford to turn around and catch you in whatever act you might be playing because she might just die when I'm not there," he finished harshly. That made my stomach turn and I suddenly was not hungry at all because my stomach was stuffed guilt.

Instead of apologising (I knew it wouldn't do anything), I asked him, "What's wrong? I thought she had another year or so until, you know," I felt awkward. I knew that Beth, Travis' mum, thought very highly of Travis so I really thought he should go see her but why this early?

Travis simply shrugged his shoulders, he looked so defeated and I felt that it was my fault he had bags under his eyes and his movements were slow.

"Sometimes even the Doctors don't know, Louis. But all I know is that if I want to see here before she's gone, I'm going to have to go tomorrow," he finished his plate and got up to go put it in the sink for me to later wash, "don't want to end up making the same mistake you did," he mumbled the last part but I had definitely heard it.

I watched him with my jaw slack as he placed his dishes by the sink and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, ignoring to look on my face and storming up into his bedroom. 

He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. 

My mum had died just a couple years ago and I didn't even know where m dad was. He had left before my mum did. We knew she was going to go soon but Travis didn't want me to leave him and I didn't want him to come with me because my mum didn't like him so I didn't get to go see her. 

When I'd gotten the news that she'd passed I was more mad at Trav than anything because he had held me back from going to see here.

It was a similar situation with Travis' mum now and he hated leaving me but wanted to go and see her because now he didn't want what had happened to me to happen to him.

Of course I felt terrible and I knew exactly how he felt,wanting to go see her before she was gone.

But the part that got me was I just couldn't believe that Travis would bring my mother, who was now deceased, into this and blame it on me. 

I sighed and got up from the table. It was getting to be a routine; I would come home and he would be here, we would fight, we would make up, then we would fight some more and maybe make up. 

I assumed he was going to leave tomorrow. I set my dishes down a stared at the sink, not really feeling motivated to do the washing up like I usually did.

Instead I made my way back down stairs, where I was before, and reached for the gloves on the side table. Strapping them on, I made a big punch to the middle of the bag, sending it forward. 

My chest was heaving and I felt sweat forming on my forehead after a couple minutes of hitting it. It felt good, to get all this pent up anger out. It traveled from my gut out to my finger tips and straight into the punching bag. Anger at Travis, mostly.

I wondered if Harry did things like this. Or if Harry ever got mad like I was. Maybe his way of coping was stripping, succumbing to the many pairs of hands that want to grope and feel and just get a small touch of him. I bet it makes him feel wanted, like someone cares. Someone like all those men and the occasional woman care enough to pay their money to see him dance. 

It must feel nice. But why was Harry always in a weird mood? I found it hard to understand.

He almost seemed bipolar, or having constant mood swings. At the last lesson I went to, right after we'd finished, I'd watched him take his bag, empty out the contents right onto the floor, and reload it, putting everything back into, what I assumed, order.

He always seemed on edge and I kept thinking back to when he pushed me up against the wall and basically told me off.

Either way, I did know two things; Harry was either crazy or just a super neat and tidy person and I was getting really irritated at Travis. Of course I still loved him and I had a feeling I would always love him but I bought he needed to change. 

I thought relationships were supposed to be fun and nice and lovely and filled with flowers and kisses and movie nights, not yelling and fighting and anger and drinking and hitting.

I ripped the boxing gloves off my hands and got down onto the floor, putting in fifteen push-ups and then adding thirty sit-ups while I was down there.

I didn't want to upset Travis, never, but I also didn't want to disappoint Harry. And what Travis didn't know couldn't hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> A/N: AAHHHFHALDBAKHFJKAKSBKDAHJ 
> 
> I'm sorry that was so SHORT and SHITTY  
> I just really wanted to get something posted so you guys know that I haven't totally dropped off the face of the earth.  
> :/ I don't really know if I'll keep this update Sunday thing since I'm doing this Monday night.  
> I will try :-)


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for slow updates I try

Harry's P.O.V.

 

Thank goodness I was done with lessons.

Louis had gotten on more of my nerves than I thought I even had. He was this kid who was just so naive about the stripping industry and how the money is made and just wants to be crooned over and get affection.

I knew that he had a boyfriend so I didn't get why he couldn't just settle down and be happy or content for once. It seemed like everyone was always creeping at my side, nudging me, and asking for something. They all needed to go away because I didn't have what they needed, none of them.

But the point was, I was done giving him lessons. Tonight was actually his first show as one of us and the clock was ticking down the minutes until I expected him to get here so we could all get ready.

I was planning somewhat a plan in the back of my head, maybe I could scare him away. At first, I'd thought he job was a bit shocking and weird almost but I had become accustomed and used to it. Numb to it. 

But if I could manage to scare Louis, frighten him out of wanting him to continue. I would make him do the more risky moves, the moves that got more whistles and the ones that always got the five and ten dollar bills instead if the ones, if I could get him to wear a thong, or maybe even a jock strap if I was feeling extreme, I might just manage to scare him off.

Louis nearly strutted into the studio after a couple more minutes of waiting and I gaped at him. I never understood how and why he loved this so much and it made me scared to think that he might actually enjoy performing. 

I halfheartedly introduced him to the rest of the group; mostly guys my age dressed in gym shorts and hoodies. Louis had on his usual flamboyant getup of bright colored pants and a rather tight fitted shirt. I had told him earlier in the week that he would need to buy some outfits for when he's actually on stage or dancing elsewhere but I didn't know if he really listened to me.

"What did you bring to wear?" I asked him after I'd roughly pulled him aside from a conversation with one of the other dancers. 

His face went blank and spurted out a fairly loud, "Shit."

"I didn't even order anything yet. I can't believe I forgot-"

"That's okay, Lou, I've got something that'll be perfect for you," this was the perfect opportunity for me, that he had forgotten his outfit. I'd almost figured that he would so I had brought an extra one today that hasn't been worn yet and it was one of the more revealing ones that I owned. 

I led him over by the door where I had thrown down my duffel bag and I bent down, opening it up while he stood beside me and waited. I searched around, trying not the bump any of the medicine bottles out of place. I should just throw them away because I didn't even use or need them. They were just wasting space.

Finding exactly what I was looking for, I pulled out what I brought for Louis along with my usual outfit and stood up, closer to him then I had thought that I was.

I held the garment that I'd brought for him up in front of his face and watched in amusement as his eyes widened and he took a step back.

"Gonna chicken out now, Tommo, scared of the outfit?" I mocked, grinning at him.

He looked unsure but didn't answer like it.

"No, Harry, I think the color will look great on me," and I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not because he grabbed it out of my hands and trudged towards the bathroom, leaving me standing in the middle of the room full of all the other dancers.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Louis' P.O.V.

 

Everyone was dressed and ready to go for the night and I had to take note that Harry looked damn good in very little clothing. There were straps running across the front and back of his torso, almost like suspenders, keeping up his booty black booty shorts, that had 'Slash' written across one of the ones on his back.

But mine were different. They were a lot skimpier than the other dancers' and Harry had applied a lot more makeup on my face than his own. Of course I appreciated that he happened to bring an extra outfit but I felt weird. Almost too exposed which was probably bad because I was a stripper. 

Travis didn't know about this. He had been gone for a couple of days now and when I was at home we would constantly call on the phone or text or Skype or anything really to keep his mind off of his dying mother and on me. 

I didn't know exactly when he was supposed to be back home so, this show being out of the times that I usually worked, I would probably had to run home just incase he were to arrive early. A repeat of what happened last time was not something that I wanted.

I looked down at myself, I was shining and greasy in the oil that I had been told to generously spread onto every exposed part of my skin and the fabric of the thong was pinching in some places and pulling in others. It was just overall very uncomfortable and almost too much. 

I didn't know why my heart was pounding but I half expected it to fall out of my chest and onto the floor.

From what I had gathered, Harry was he main dancer and he was very well known. He basically led the group and pulled more of the weight. 

We were all ready to go on stage and do our main show (afterwards, we would have to pretty much parade around the club and bar for an hour and then we would be done) when I heard someone with a deep voice announcing Harry and introducing him as 'Rylan', which I had known about. No one else was announced, though, and the curtains were soon being pulled over and we went out in a sort of line.

For the first half I mainly kept my eyes glued to one of the opposite walls facing us and tried not to look at the men crowded around the bottom floor that were staring up at me with starving eyes. 

I was doing a move that Harry had taught me, apparently one that raked in more of the cash but was harder to accomplish, and I accidentally caught a gaze of an onlooking man. He had a relatively short beard but it was greasy and sweaty and gross looking, dressed in an old t-shirt and I didn't even bother to see what he was wearing on the bottom. 

I had vaguely taken note of the amount of money thrown onstage and once in a while I would bend down (but do it in a sexy kind of way, pushing my arse far out and making sure to smirk) and pick some of it up, getting myself a couple wolf whistles from the crowd. 

We had spread out by now and I took to my own corner of the stage. I was breathing heavily and looked back up at one of the back walls, desperate not to look into that man's gaze again, and turned around, leaning against the pole behind me and dragging myself down it. I made sure to close my eyes and run my hands over my oiled chest, and I could almost hear the guy's breathing. When I stood up, slowly and swaying my hips to the beat of the loud music, seeming to rattle the stage I was on, my eyes opened and were instantly met with the man with the greasy beard's, except he was much closer this time. 

I knew what he wanted to do so I dug the heel of my shoe into the stage and bent down, blowing him a slow kiss and throwing in a wink at the end. He grinned and I felt his finger tips at the hem of the tight shorts I was wearing, tucking something right underneath them. I smirked, but felt my eyes widen and my guard fall straight down to the floor when the weight of his palm landed flat on my right bum cheek. 

It was unpleasant and hard, actually, and I slowly made my way over to where Harry was spread out on the pole, looking like he was defying gravity with his lanky limbs, not caring if some of the cash slipped out of the brightly colored thong I was wearing. 

I stalled for a couple seconds until he realized I was standing next to him and then he stopped, standing up next to me and looking at me with something like concern written on his face.

He raised his eyebrows as if to ask what was the problem and I got closer to him, almost pressing my lips to his ear.

"I need to get off or I'm going to be sick," I yelled over the music. It might have been a slight exaggeration but it worked. Harry nodded and looked off to someone in the crowd, motioning them he was going with me. 

I stumbled down the stairs and into a backroom and coughed and blinked my eyes in an attempt to clear the lump in my throat. There was no reason to cry, I was a grown man.

"Louis are you-"

"Oh God, Harry. I'm so sorry, it's just-" I felt like I had no control over the sobs that racked through my body and I suddenly realized how gross I was; covered in oil and sweat and glitter and so many germs from the hands that had been running all over me and the money being shoved into these panty things that were just too tight and revealing and I just hated the stares, out of everything I had just done and the weeks leading up to it, those vacant stares of the men pointed right at me were the worst.

The rough fabric of Harry's more conservative outfit (it wasn't conservative in the least but it was more that than mine was) scratched up and down the side of my cheek when I clung to him, squeezing him tightly and all I wanted was for him to squeeze back then. 

My tears soaked his chest and it seemed like ages before his arm snaked around my shoulders, just peacefully resting there, and rubbing my back with the other. I felt him sigh and rest his chin on the top of my head.

He tried to shush me, but my mouth wouldn't listen and it just shook my body with sobs even harder.

"The w-way he," sniff "just glared- at me, H-Harry," sniff "looked like," sniff "jus' want-ed to r-rape me," I managed to stutter out. I knew I probably looked like a real mess at the moment but Harry's arms were just so warm and comforting and /right/. 

"Well, Lou, what did you expect? They're horny old men and they come here to look at you while you dance around and if they like it they'll give you money. 'S all it is, really," Harry answered with his chin still on my head.

"I know, but I didn't think it'd be that scary,"

He didn't answer that time and I thought for a split second hat I had maybe sucked all of the nice out of him for the day and he would just drop me and leave me standing here all a wreck. 

But he didn't. He didn't leave and he didn't complain. He didn't pull back until I did, wiping my eyes after my hiccups had stopped. Swallowing hard, I tried to clean up the mess I had just created.

"I have to quit. This is terrible and I don't know how you do it, I hate having my body looked at like that. I was wrong; I thought it'd be easy, but," I trailed off, looking at the wall and feeling particularly tired. I took a shuddering breath. And again, Harry kept silent.

A thought hit me that I would have to somehow get cleaned up and walk myself back to my house, seeing as Trav had our car. I looked around awkwardly and Harry seemed to take notice.

"There are showers down the hallway if you want to get cleaned up. I can tell the manager if you really don't want to continue and you can just leave and not come back but," Harry himself and shrugged. 

I looked at the ground and nodded, turning to go in the direction of the showers. 

"You can just," Harry motioned towards me and the outfit he'd given me to wear, "throw it away. I don't need it back, I've got plenty myself."

"Alright, thanks, Harry."  
~~~~~~~~~~~

My shower felt more than amazing even though the water wouldn't go any hotter than mildly cold.

I didn't know what I would tell Travis now. That I had quit? Been fired? I was scared for when he was to come home, what if he was home right now and m phone was buzzing like mad in my bag outside the shower room? He'd be furious that I hadn't told him about this slight schedule change and had runoff once again while he wasn't there.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He'd only been gone for a couple of days.

I could feel all the stares from the men going off of my body and down the drain and I reached for the small bar of soap on the side wall, scratching and rubbing off all of the paint and oil and just tons of glitter, along with the weeks worth of training and practice and workouts that led up to this. All went down the drain that sat in the center of the big room.

As soon as all the last remnants of glitter and oil were rinsed off I shut down the water and raced to get dressed back into my old clothes and check my phone.

No texts from Travis. Which meant he was still with Beth which meant a huge sigh of relief.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry drove me home afterwards.  
•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•


	10. Chapter Nine

Harry unlocked the door to his flat and jiggled the handle, it giving way and he stepped inside. he closed it behinds him, turning around and grabbing his keys again, locking it, checking it, unlocking it, checking it, locking it, and checking it. He certainly didn't want anyone coming into his house that he could possibly steal or break anything. 

He strode down the quiet, empty hallways of the house carrying his duffel bag loosely at his side. There wasn't a single picture on the wall of him or his family or friends. to him, it was better that way, no having to straighten them and make sure that backs of the frames didn't rub too much on the ivory painted wall to leave a mark.

He also didn't think there were any pictures that were even worthy of hanging up. 

He stepped into his room, small and painted navy blue, and placed his bag on he floor near the foot of his bed. he went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea before he took a better shower and got into bed, like any other normal person.

Except Harry wasn't normal. To himself, he seemed normal, but to everyone else, Harry Styles was not normal. He grew up with people telling him he wasn't normal and he was just sick of it. 

But the thing was, Harry treasured a lot of things. He had dozens of collector's items propped up all over his house, his clothes neatly folded and placed in their appropriate drawers, and his dishes shiny and stacked in the cupboards in his humble kitchen.

But his wasn't just for things in his house, it was also for people. Harry didn't like making friends, or even having relationships with anyone because they always seemed to get broken. something would happen and it would start to jumble then before he knew it everything was a compost utter mess. 

So in a way, it was like his house. he locked the doors to keep out the robbers and thieves from breaking and stealing his things, but he also locked up his heart and his mind to keep people from breaking things in there, too.

If there weren't any people to begin with, there couldn't be any more broken items, windows, or his heart.

He had to quadruple check the gas to make sure he had turned it off on the stove (because if he had left it on who knew what would actually happen to his house then) and carried his hot tea down the hallway and towards the room with the telly in it, it was night time so there had to be something on, plus he didn't have to go to work tomorrow.

He walked past a room that was locked, the room that will be forever locked, the room that holds every secret of Harry's being. He had made himself a vow one time to never go into the room again, no matter what. And he definitely didn't want to know what it looked like in there, how messy and distraught it probably was, it made his chest ache just thinking about it, so he didn't.

He looked away at the opposite wall when he passed, even holding in a breath, until he got into the living room area where he sat down, clutching the warm mug. 

He never ended up turning on the tv, always forgetting that he doesn't pay the bill for it until the buttons on the remote don't ever work. So he sat in the dark of his old flat, slowly sipping his tea until the clock read exactly midnight, and he wasn't tired even a bit.

He felt sticky and weirdly warm when he crawled into his bed. The bed didn't swallow him whole like it usually did and he tossed and turned in the duvet Louis' face sitting in the back of his mind.

He had been so upset and Harry thought for a second that he felt utility for making Louis feel like that. It was his fault that Louis wanted to quit so badly and even though it wasn't the ideal job and Harry was never excited to see the bubbly lad, but now that he had sobbed into his chest and told him he was quitting it had kind of sunken in to Harry. 

It hadn't occurred to him before but it was clear now that Louis really cared about the job and Harry wasn't sure if it was just because of Harry or he actually thought he would like it but he had ruined it now. 

There was a tingling in the inside of his arms still from when Louis had been all small and wrapped up inside them and he didn't know when it would go away. 

He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. He wouldn't be able to sleep without making sure Louis was fine. His eyes weren't drooping even though it was just past midnight and his brain felt wide awake.

It was his fault that Louis could be lying wide awake in his bed, eyes wet because he felt so scared and robbed of his privacy that those men just ripped from him. It had been too early but Harry just wanted to hurt him. And now it was coming right back to him.

He looked at his phone on the table beside the couch, just sitting there and waiting for Harry to call Louis, his number punched into his contact list even though he was supposed to find him irritating and clingy. His hands were burning and itching and he wanted to put on lotion but he knew if he even started anything like that, anything that involved routine s wouldn't be able to control himself.

The black phone was in his hand before he knew it and he pressed it to his ear, chewing the inside of his lip as he listened to it ring. 

It rang for what seemed like and hour, as he sat there listening to the dull tone, going in one ear and straight out the other, he felt dazed and really out of it. His head hurt and he sighed, feeling his stomach churn when he stood up because right now he really just could not sit still for very long.

"Hello?" Louis answered quietly on the other end.

"Louis, are you doing okay? I've just been sat here thinking and I don't really know-"

"Harry- shit," Louis cursed and a muffled sound flew into Harry's ear from he other end. his heart picked up when he realized Louis might be in trouble, he could have hurt himself and it was because of Harry.

"Louis? Louis, are you okay?"

He waited in silence for about ten seconds until Louis came back on the line, able to hear Louis' voice a lot clearer this time.

"Sorry, I had to get into a different room. Uh- yeah, I'm good, Harry. 'S not your fault I just don't think the job is for me," he continued.

Harry didn't know if he should just let it go or press on. So he didn't say anything and let silence fall over both of them.

"But, uh, my boyfriend just came home and his mum passed away yesterday and he's not doing so good so I can't really talk and I'm not exactly supposed to be talking to you in the first place so I've got to go, Harry. Hold on," He spoke quickly. 

Harry guessed Louis was trying to cover the phone up and talk to someone else because he heard muffled voices, barely being able to make them out as words and sentences, "He's just someone I work with, Trav, no! Give me my phone!"

Harry's eyes widened when he heard a couple crashes and other yells, the line going dead a couple of seconds later.

Maybe he had just dropped the phone, Harry thought.

But Louis was upset, either way, and someone he knew had just died. So it didn't help that Harry was there messing things up, intruding on other people's lives. That's why he didn't like to get involved with people. He always broke them, like things in his home, and he could never bring himself to fix them so they just laid there on the floor in tiny bits and pieces. 

He took a couple of deep breaths, getting rid of the heat that had built up in his lungs from holding his breath while on the phone. 

His legs were shaking on the way to the cabinet above the sink in his small kitchen only lit up by a small lamp in the corner. It was all he needed, though, he didn't really want a huge house or lots of fancy furniture, either.

He had left his phone back in the living room somewhere, probably on the floor, and he reached up to open the door to that displayed the shelf that was lined with rows and rows of prescription and over the counter drugs.

He yawned and quickly scanned his eyes over all of the bottles until he got to one blue bottle in the back. It was the biggest one he had and he used them almost every night. 

His doctor always told him that he might for an addiction to some of the medications he took (or was supposed to take) because he took so many of them and so he stopped going to that doctor. He refused any calls from the office requesting he stop by.

He didn't have a problem so he didn't need to go.

Sleep definitely wasn't guaranteed that night but the pills would help.

He wasn't exactly sure how many he took or how many he was supposed to take, didn't really care, but he chased the down the throat with a large glass of warm water and set the glass down into the empty sink. 

He was so numb, comfortably numb.


	11. Chapter Ten

Louis' P.O.V

There were papers spread all over the floor and a couple broken glasses. I picked up my phone and prayed it was okay. Travis was strong but he hadn't broken my phone.

He had come home right after I'd gotten home, maybe even catching a glimpse of Harry's car driving down the road and when he heard me talking on the phone with someone besides him, it had just made it all that worse.

I didn't think I'd ever seen someone so furious at absolutely everything like he had been. Rampages were normal for Trav but he had been out to break things and I was scared he wouldn't have cared if he had accidentally broken me.

But I knew he didn't really mean anything by it. His mother died and now I was the only one left for him. He was so lonely and I was literally the only person left for him. He didn't have a dad or anybody to care about him except for that last person, me. And shouldn't that last person love him and give him all the love he needs?

I looked up to the ceiling from where I was slouched against the outside of the bathroom door. There was a wet spot in the corner where water had been leaking for the last year or so since we've been living here. I'd never noticed it had gotten so bad.

Travis wasn't here; I didn't know where he was. He had ran out the door yelling about how everyone had left him and he had no one and he was by himself. It made my heart hurt just thinking about it.

He had only grabbed my wrist and pulled me around a little and my arms ached slightly but it was probably nothing compared to what Travis was feeling now. 

He was just lonely and needed someone that would love him.

He usually would come home after he would run out, drunk and still mad because he didn't like to leave me alone for very long. But I had a weird feeling that this time he might take a little more time than usual.

And Harry's house was the last place that I should be going but before I knew it I was knocking on his front door for the fourth time. I had seen where he lived one of the days of training where he had given multiple people a ride home and we drove past his house. He was probably sleeping and I was basically making a fool of myself, standing here shaking, with bruises on my arms and uselessly knocking on a door of someone who didn't care about me.

But the door creaked open and I stopped my self from turning around and sprinting home (because I didn't even have a car). 

I wanted to hug him, run my fingers through his curly hair and take a deep breath of his smell (a bit like spearmint and cigarettes) but I stopped myself, not wanting to risk my chances of having to go home.

"Uhm, you can come in if you want," Harry mumbled and I was positive he wasn't agreeing with what was coming out of his mouth.

I nodded slightly and looked down, stepping through the doorway. 

I didn't know what I had expected Harry's flat to look like but I guess it wasn't this. It was clean, but at the same time it wasn't. Everything was a neat and tidy at first glance but as soon as I had stepped in I could feel the thick air and I could feel just how messy and dark it was. I wondered if maybe that was the way Harry was, neat and clean on the outside but as soon as you got even a glimpse of him from the inside everything was fucking out of place and strewn everywhere, like he wanted people to think he was someone he really wasn't. 

There were no lights. Or he had just decided to turn them off because he liked it better in the dark, I wouldn't be surprised.

I swallowed hard and turned around to see Harry walking into a small room that looked like a kitchen. 

"Want some water or something, you look like shit," he stated, already opening a cupboard and taking a glass out.

"Thanks," I snorted, and gratefully took the glass from his hand, sipping from it slowly, "I'm not my best," I admitted.

Harry smiled, looking like he wanted to say something, but kept quiet. 

"What happened?" He asked after a minute of silence.

Shrugging was my first reaction, but when I thought about it, what did I have to lose talking to Harry? 

"My boyfriend came home from his mum's house, she died. But I guess we all saw it coming, you know?" I slipped in the last part before he said anything. I didn't want his sympathy. 

I watched as Harry's jaw clenched and unclenched, taking in a deep breath and holding it inside his lungs. He leaned against the counter top.

"Yeah, I don't know where my mum is," he mumbled quietly but I was surprised because he didn't look like he wanted to cry, but instead he looked mad, like he wanted to hit something.

I looked at the floor, not wanting to see Harry's piercing eyes.

"Sorry,"

He swatted his hand at me, just to almost brush off the idea like he would rather not think about anything, but I understood. 

"Anyway, Trav just doesn't like me talking to other people and when he heard me on the phone with you he got kind of mad and ran out," Harry wasn't saying anything and it was making me nervous, "I don't know when he's coming back, Haz," the name just slipping out without notice.

I always hated the feeling when your throat closed up when you were about to cry; getting dry and it hurt, even.

But why was Harry hugging me? He shouldn't care. He shouldn't have even let me inside of his house. I ripped myself away from him, not even wanting to get my tears on his shirt. I was pitiful, always sobbing and I didn't know how or even why Harry continued to put up with me.

I tugged the scratchy wool jumper further down onto my sleeves and watched as Harry took a step back from me.

"I just, as much as I love having someone there for me I really need space," I mumbled, and almost regretted it as soon as I saw disappointment cross Harry's face. "I'm sorry, sometimes it just gets to be too much, to know?"

Harry nodded and I let out the breath I had been holding.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry had out some clean sheets on his couch for me, after insisting that he didn't think it was safe to go back to my house and the fact that it was also 3 in the morning. 

Harry's bathroom was connected to his room, so to get to it I had to walk thought his bedroom. The floor in the bathroom was shiny tile, clean but I could see there was a spot right by the sink where it was starting to crack. I let my eyes follow the crack to the cabinet, climbing up it and to the mirror above the sink, that also served as a place to keep medications. 

I wondered for a second if he had any pain killers because my head had been throbbing all day and it didn't seem like it was getting any better.

Sliding the mirror to the left, it revealed a large shelf fuller of tall bottles of prescription meds. That was the second time I had seen them and I thought it was weird how many he had, filling up his cabinet and his duffel bag.

Unfortunately, there was every kind of medication except any painkillers, so I closed it and bent down to open a drawer underneath the sink. I wasn't snooping, I was exploring and looking for some medicine and there was definitely a huge difference 

/Oh./ This was where Harry kept his house da of bars of soap. I had seen it in movies and stuff by I never knew people actually did things like compulsively washing their hands. They were all the same brand, color, scent, and same everything that I didn't even know about soap. I guess I could imagine him in here, unloading his bag of bar soap that he'd just got from the store, lining them all up against the tall walls. 

Maybe that's why Harry was always in a different mood, maybe that's what had always seemed a little off about him; he was crazy. 

I gasped and turned around when the bathroom door swung open and Harry stepped inside, dressed only in his bathrobe and his hair brushed down in front of his forehead. 

"So I let you in my house and you go and look through my stuff? I see hi it is now, Louis," Harry's words were harsh but they didn't bother me.

"No, Harry I as just looking for some aspirin or something and I just saw your soap collec-" 

"It's not a fucking collection," he growled.

"Okay, okay. but I knew something was up with you day one. You're not easy to read but you aren't difficult, either," I leaned against the sink. I could leave any second and not care, I wasn't even tired. 

"Really, now? So what did you learn about me, what do you want to know?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, are you like crazy or some shit?" it had blurted out before I had time to stop it, or Harry's response.

I watched Harry's pupils dial ate and his eyes widen. 

"That's none of your business and you know it. Why do you care, we just met a week and a half ago," he snapped. "why do you want to know, Louis? Why is it so important to you?" he asked, voice quieter than it had been before.

I bit my lip and chewed on it slightly, avoiding his eyes and looking at the ground. "Because I like you, okay?" The words were a verbal wince and I hated admitting it when I had someone as lovely as Travis in my life.

Harry raised his eyebrows and stood quietly for a second thinking.

"Alright, Louis. The answer to your question is, yeah, sure, you could say that I'm crazy or some shit," he shot back in a deep tone.

"Harry.." I called quietly.

"Oh, and Louis? Remember what I told you about liking me, falling for me, yeah, make sure you don't do it. Go to bed, Louis. I'll see you in the morning,"

And I always have to go messing everything up.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Harry's P.O.V. 

I'd never noticed how fragile Louis was. Not just his personality, acting like he could break any minute, but his features as well. 

His hairline was a bow, deeper towards his temples and curving in at the top of his head. His eyebrows were the softest arch of feathery looking hair and they framed his eyes, eyelids that perfect smooth tone. Eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones, long and thick and even darker than his hair. 

His breaths were small and deep in his sleepy state, nose twitching ever so slightly once every couple minutes; that was what I thought was he cutest. I let my eyes drift down to his Cupid's bow, the deep indentation covered in the slightest, shortest whiskers like he had shaved yesterday morning and it was just beginning to grow back. 

He was delicate and fragile, not to be disturbed but when my eyes drifted over the lightest pink of lips, the bottom one jutting out just slightly, I couldn't help but just... 

I leaned in from my kneeling position on the floor and pressed my lips to Louis'.

...kiss him.

I pecked his lips again, closing closing eyes, softer that time because I didn't want to break Louis, before pulling back and just watching.

My heart sped up when Louis' eyelashes lifted up off of his cheeks and fluttered, revealing the most beautiful shade of blue-grey I have ever seen, just gently staring back at me. 

Louis blinked once before gasping and sitting up quickly, leaving myself gaping at him, wondering why he'd freaked out.

"Harry?" Louis asked in a voice heavy with sleep. 

"Yes?" My voice was even deeper and I had been up since 4 am.

"Did, did you just, kiss me?" He stuttered and my eyes widened. Had I really just kissed him?

"I did? Did I? I-um, sorry, Louis, I thought I imagined it," I mumbled and my mouth was doing that weird twitchy thing it did when I was nervous or something. Louis was nodding and I looked down.

I turned around and raked my hand through my hair, slightly sweaty. "D-Did you want some coffee or something? I know my clocks are completely off but it's around eight, you know, if you were wondering," I mumbled. I walked clumsily into the kitchen, tripping over my own feet and shivering at the cool air hitting my bare chest.

I could feel the burn of Louis' gaze on me when he came into the room, yawning and stretching. "Actually, Harry, I should probably go home and see if Trav's come back yet. It was very generous of you for letting me stay. Sometimes I just need to get out of the house, you know?" His voice shook.

I looked down and nodded; I guess I understood. Louis' hands went into his pockets and he yawned again, heading towards the door. 

"Yeah," I had to say something to him before he left, I couldn't just let him leave, "just text me or whatever".

He nodded, looking like he wanted to be doing something besides standing on my door step. I could almost hear his shallow breaths and the sound he made when he swallowed.

"Thanks, Harry," and he couldn't even look me in the eyes when he said it. He was being weird.

I sighed and closed the door. Knowing him, he would probably be back for some reason or another   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Louis' P.O.V.

The door to Harry's small flat shut quietly and I turned around, just standing there for a minute.

Harry's lips had been on mine, contact, skin on skin, breath to breath and I had no idea why.

He had always been telling me not to fall for him, it's a bad idea he's been down that road and he doesn't want to go there again because I guess it wasn't a smooth one. 

But then there he was, sitting in front of me, watching me sleep and thinking of who knows what, and then kissing me. It was all too strange and I marveled at some rain drops that began to fall, thinking I should really head home before Travis got back.

I stepped off of the porch, feeling a couple drops on my nose. 

What was even more strange was how he reacted to it, though; like he didn't even know he'd done it. Like he'd convinced himself it was all a dream. Like it'd never happened. 

That must've been the case because the night before he'd even told, no, yelled at me to stay out of his things and that I shouldn't care about him. It was almost like he was battling himself, having an argument in his own mind over loving someone or not, with himself. 

I made my way through backstreets, skipping major roads to save time and my hoodie only got slightly damp.

My heart sunk when I got to the house and I turned the front door knob, he door swinging open and telling me that someone was already home.

My breath froze in my throat and my arms at my sides, not wanting to go in because I knew nothing good would come out of it. 

"Louis?" I heard him yell and then feet padding quickly down the stairs. I stayed in the doorway and just gave in, let my heart race and tears pool in the corners of my eyes. A ringing sounded in my ears and my throat felt like it was closing up, goose bumps covering my arms. 

I should've just stayed here last night, I didn't need Harry's comfort, though it wasn't even comfort, I could've taken care of myself and now it's coming back to bite me. Travis had even warned me many times to not run off again and I didn't just do it once, I did it twice more and this time I was getting caught right in the act. 

I was a coward, that's what, never sticking up for myself and now that I was in trouble, I was just going to be an even bigger coward, giving in to whatever Travis wanted. 

I felt my face get red with not just fear, but more like anger. Anger at myself for not stopping this sooner. Anger that has built up from every time he's slapped, hit, punched, kicked, and yelled and screamed at me.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Travis yelled. And so it began. My face crumbled up and tears blurred my vision, making Travis look like a big blob in front of me. 

He gripped my sleeve and pulled me inside, growling in my ear and slamming the door shut. "What the hell? How many times have you snuck out while I've been gone?" I swallowed and tried to blink away the tears and stop them from rolling down my cheeks. I didn't like crying because it made me feel weak, even though I did it all the time. "Is this your third? Fourth? Fucking answer me!" His face was a deep red and I gasped, looking at the veins near his hairline.

I knew I should speak up, a coward would stay quiet and I wasn't that. But I didn't know what to say. Travis was lonely and I felt that I should stay with him and be that person to love him but I was also torn because I didn't like being pushed around, literally, and scared and kept inside all the time. 

I shook my head and looked at him, trying to stand up taller against the wall he had shoved me into. "No, Trav, honestly-"

"You better be honest, bitch," he snarled.

"He's just someone I work with," I traced my mind back, thinking of all the times I've said that. I didn't even work with him anymore and I wasn't sure why I still stick around Harry.

"How many times have I heard that? It's the same damn thing! And I have the same damn answer; you don't leave, Louis, ever!" I was backing up into the kitchen because he kept getting closer to me pushing me back with both hands.

"Well, maybe if you gave me a little freedom, I wouldn't have to sneak out!" And that was the thing I would regret saying for the rest of my life.

I saw something go off in his eyes, a red light but he was about to speed through it. I'd crossed the line that Travis had set for me and I knew what was coming next. 

I ducked and squeezed my eyes closed, feeling air whip over my head but not his fist. 

"Stop hitting me! I'm serious! I will walk out of here and not come back, Travis, if you don't start treating me like a fucking human being!" I gripped the couch behind me to keep myself from falling because I'd never done that before, stepped out of my boundaries, talked back, or even stood up for myself in the slightest, and it was terrifying. 

Travis froze after I had yelled, balling his fists at his sides, the corners of his mouth twitching in a frown and I straightened up. He raised his eyebrows at me and suddenly his voice went quiet. 

"My mum, who I was raised by, just died. I have no one. And now you're leaving, too? For some other worthless pile of shit?" His voice cracked and I knew I'd hit a soft spot. "I'm done. How am I supposed to do anything on my own?"

I shook my head. I had already dug a hole, might as well dig a tad deeper. "I don't know, Travis, but you're going to have to figure that out because I can't stay here with you". That was my ultimate limit, never had I said anything like that and it almost felt good, but I still felt terrible for leaving Travis here by himself. 

I took the chance when he wasn't grabbing ahold of me to run upstairs and quickly pack my things, I didn't want to spend another night here, I couldn't. I heard him yell from where he was probably still standing in the kitchen. 

"Well, if I can't have you, then nobody fucking can!" Then a door slam hard. 

And that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Louis' P.O.V.

I'd barely gotten any sleep last night.

It'd taken hours for me to pack the things I wanted, sorting everything and putting things in bags so they wouldn't leak and spill everywhere. 

I had then laid awake until four or five, thinking about where I could go in the morning. I couldn't stay here, that was obvious, but I didn't know where else.

The only other place I could think of was Harry's. And I couldn't go because I was just there and he didn't need me to bug him any more than I already had.

But then again, I didn't have anywhere else to go. I could just stop in a say goodbye, tell him the situation even if he didn't care and didn't want to listen or just simply slammed the door on me. I would do it for myself, so I would know that if I never see him again, at least I got to say goodbye. And then I would leave and continue on my way wherever I went.

I checked all the rooms quietly in the house, just double checking that Travis wasn't in any of them before slinging my backpack over my shoulder and bringing my duffel bag to the front door. I paused in the doorway, keys in one hand and bag in the other. I grabbed Travis's leather jacket that was hanging on the back of a kitchen chair and rooted around in the pockets. I ended up finding a good amount of money and I shoved it in my pockets.

It was probably my money he stole from me so really, I was just taking it back. 

If this worked, it would be the last time I'd sneak out. If it worked, that was. I sighed and wrapped my hand tighter around the bag I was carrying, slamming the front door behind me.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got to Harry's house in a little over half an our, making sure to take as many back roads as possible to avoid Travis efficiently. I took a deep breath and knocked on Harry's door, knowing he was definitely home because he'd told me yesterday. 

Having been raining for a few days the air was thick and sticky, and I started to sweat under the three jumpers I was wearing. But at this point I didn't care if I was homeless or not, as long as I was away and safe from Travis. I think I would always feel slightly disgusted and guilty for leaving someone like him all by himself, but I knew what kind of damage he could do and I didn't want to get hurt.

What scared me even more was when I was free from him, living on the streets or where ever I decided, would he come and look for me? And if he ever found me would he hurt me or be overly nice because I'd been gone for a while. It sounded possible for him to do both and that made my stomach churn u comfortably.

I told myself not to breakdown this time. It seemed like I ways greeted Harry in tears and if this was the last time I would see him I thought maybe I should man up a bit, maybe even smile even if I had to force myself. 

The door opened and a sleepy Harry swiped a hand trough his hair and squinted down at me from the almost half foot taller he was.

I tried to ignore the fact that he had on only a very tight pair of boxer-briefs and I could see every single tattoo on his body. I watched him eye my bags.

"Lou?" He croaked.

I ignored the nickname and got straight to the point, not wanting to stay very long because I knew he'd probably been sleeping before I came and woke him up. 

"I'm leaving, Harry, and I just wanted to say-" 

Harry's eyes widened twice their sized and focused on something behind me. I could hear his breathing stop. I turned to look at what he was staring at and saw mine and Trav's car drive up and stop at the bottom of Harry's drive, the window opening slightly.

"What the hell-" I squinted at the car.

I felt my heart race, pounding in my ears. there was a particularly loud one, seemingly too loud to be something like a heartbeat. 

The last thing I heard was Harry scream my name, then nothing at all, just silence and peace.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Harry's P.O.V.

"A coma? For how long?" My heart dropped into my black boots when the words fell out of the doctor's mouth.

"Mr. Styles, we can never be positive when a patient will wake up, or if they will wake up, for that matter," the doctor's grey eyes dug into my frantic green ones. I ran a hand through my oily hair, greasy from sweat and the need of a shower, and chewed on my lower lip. 

"Do you think he'll wake up?" I asked quietly, almost not wanting to hear his answer because he would probably be right. 

"Judging by the amount of blood loss and shock he went through from the bullet, I'm guessing he'll either wake up within a few days to a week or not wake up at all," I blinked a couple times when he said 'or not wake up at all'. 

A couple weeks ago I was crazy enough to not care if he woke up or not, but now, seeing Louis laying helpless and still on a hospital bed with every kind of wire hooked up to his chest and head and arms was making my heart hurt. And my head. It was all a little too much at the moment, having just brought him in yesterday and I hadn't been allowed to seen him until they got him all situated with everything so that meant I had to sleep in the waiting room, which the lady to the desk wasn't too keen on but I didn't care. I was the only one left for Louis and whether I told myself I liked it or not, I was going to be there fore him. 

"Just consider yourself lucky, Mr. Styles. The police who investigated the scene after you called them told me that if you had been standing just a couple more inches to the right, the bullet would've gone right through him," he gestured in the open door at Louis, "and straight into you, too," and with that he turned around and left.

I was lucky, I realised, but I didn't feel it. Probably because Louis hadn't been very lucky at all. I didn't want to eat, so I just kept refilling my styrofoam cup with coffee from downstairs in the main unit, not that it was any good, but just so I could stay awake. In case Louis woke up.

Much to my protest, I was later forced to go home. They told me to go get some rest and comeback when I felt better. But all I thought about driving home was Louis and how I was going to somehow pay for all of this. I never got insurance because I didn't think I would ever need it. Had I not met Louis, I wouldn't. But I was the only one left for him so I had to do it.

There wasn't much investigating needing to be done about Travis. all Isis was say his name and where he lived then watched him get carted off to court. he would probably get life in prison, but if it was up to me I would say death sentence. 

I didn't know how Louis would take it, Travis being in jail. It seemed he always gave in to him, letting him win and not once standing up for himself. Except for what got him almost killed, that was the only time he had spoken up. 

But what gave me shivers was that he had been on his way to say goodbye to me, to then go off to who knows where by himself and if he was maybe just a couple minutes early or later, he could've gotten shot and killed, not just traumatised. 

I slammed the door behind me and threw my stuff down beside it, stomping into the kitchen. I filled up a glass of water and drank it. It would be great if I could just wash off everything that's happened lately, to just see it laying on the floor, all my problems,instead of on my body. 

It was all messed up and not in the right way. The hospital was disgustingly clean and white and it made my stomach hurt. 

And now that I thought about it, I probably didn't have enough money to pay for the bill and if I wanted to make it somewhat easier for Louis, I could try and gather some before he wakes up. That way when he wakes up, he can pay it and get out. 

But without Travis I knew Louis' didn't have a lot of money to start with.

I started making a list in my mind of things I could do to get more money; increase my working hours and days was really all I could come up with which would obviously not be nearly enough. 

I reached into my pants pockets and pulled out a lighter and a packet of cigarettes, placing one between my lips and lighting it. 

I walked around my house, breathing out the smoke and filling my house wit it. I was ruining it, it would still smell weeks from now but that's ah t I wanted. Because once you mess one thing up you have to mess it all up and I usually don't go back and fix it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours and two packs of cigarettes later, I realised that I could sell Louis'' house; if I was up to it. I fits had to stop trying to convince myself I didn't like him. I assumed Travis would never come back, so Louis' wouldn't have a place to stay, which was where I came in. If I sold his house that would probably give me most of the money to pay for everything but he would just have to live with me. 

The question was more like whether or not he would want strangle me for selling his house.

The realisation of of having to go to work tomorrow made my head hurt. I didn't love stripping, but I didn't hate it either. You just had to learn how to turn it all off. The people in the crowd aren't looking at you as a person, they're looking at you as an object, something to get themselves hyped up with. I was for their own pleasure and amusement and that was it. I don't think Louis realised that and he went into it without walls up. 

But thinking about Louis and going to the club tomorrow and how it was basically my fault for not saving Louis' earlier made me regret not taking those three inches to the right so the bullet would've gone into me.

I left the cigarette butts laying around my house, making black marks in the carpet when I stepped on them and didn't pick them up. And even though I hadn't showered for about a week, I figured it could hold off until after work tomorrow and because it was three in the morning. 

As much as I just wanted to get under the hot spray and wash everything off, I settled for a drink of water (my throat was killing me) and climbed into my bed. 

Though I couldn't sleep knowing Louis might not ever wake up.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Harry's P.O.V.

I never thought I could go for so long without sleep. Because I definitely haven't slept in a good 72 hours or so. The road was wet and a fog hung low over it, adding to the difficulty of driving. 

I was doing the one thing I didn't want to do even more than go to work this afternoon; go and see Louis. It made my head hurt and my bones ache just looking at him in that stupid white hospital bed in the stupid white room in the stupid big building in the even more stupid city. I've always hated the city because it was so dirty and dark and everyone looked like they were sleepwalking. 

But sitting beside Louis and knowing that I could have done something was the worst part. I could have told someone about their relationship and how it didn't seem right; how it definitely was not right, but I didn't. 

I somehow managed to hit every single red light on the way there, getting frustrated and blowing through a couple. I was pretty careless this morning, getting up around noon and throwing on whatever was on top of the pile of clothes in my room. I still needed to shower, maybe I could sneak in a shower at the hospital. 

I took a right and ended up in the parking lot furthest from the building, getting out and bracing myself against the chilly winds that blew in my face when I walked the distance to the front doors. The lady at the desk was nice, a different one than last night that'd seen me sleeping on the chairs in the waiting room until shed finally given in and let me see Lou early. 

I didn't really care what they thought of me as long as I got to make sure he was alright. But at the same time I was torn. I didn't want to be in this disgusting hospital with the old nurses with bittersweet voices that yelled at you every time you breathed. I didn't wan to be a part of this where I had to follow Louis and make sure he was alright because if I didn't the I would feel guilty for the rest of my life. 

And I also wanted to. The other part of me didn't let me sleep last night because I couldn't wait to get up and go see Louis' in the morning, go talk to Louis, go see if Louis woke up LouisLouisLouisLouis. 

But when I slowly creaked open the door to his room and leaked in before I entered, he wasn't awake. there were still machines hooked to him and his eyes were still shut tight. His face was strangely hollow, even more angular and sharp than usual and he looked skinny, even though it had only been a couple days. 

I felt an immediate stab to my stomach looking at him, knowing that If I had spoken up that maybe he wouldn't be like this right now.

I pulled up a chair and sat on it, leaning in and resting my head on my hands. I didn't know where to start.

"Hey, Lou."

I guess I didn't know what I was holding back for; he wasn't awake.

I scrunched my eyebrows when my stomach churned painfully, sloshing around even though I hadn't eaten anything in a couple of days. I layer my head on my arms, resting on the side of the bed beside Louis' face. 

"I don't know what I'm doing, everything is so shitty," my voice cracked and I knew I sounded terrible, but the room was empty besides us two. Louis had always come crying to me, now I was crying to him.

"I don't want to do it anymore. It's all messed up, nothing's right. This is my fault, Louis. I'm a careless asshole," I hid my head in my elbow, not wanting to show my face even though there was no one to show. Maybe he could hear me, though. I've heard of people waking up from comas by being talked out of them. I wondered it I was important enough to Louis to wake him up.

"I have to sell your house, Louis, to pay for all this shit I caused. Isn't that fair?" My voice was laced with sarcasm, and I coughed to try and get the lump out of my throat. "But you can come with me, you can always come with me."

"I don't usually fix messes, especially the ones I start. But I can't just give up, right? You would hate me, wouldn't you, if I just walked away from everything. I think about that a lot, Louis. Like, it's just so much easier to just take that one step off a building or something than to do all this work for maybe even nothing." 

I closed my eyes for a bit, the insides burning my eyes and I absolutely hated crying in front of people but I guess it was different since he didn't know. The cleanliness of the room was making me want to be sick. 

"To be honest, I don't know why I haven't done it already."

I felt like sleeping and not ever waking up. But that was selfish, I knew I was selfish; I was complaining about how bad I had it when Louis was laying right next to me in a fucking coma.

I sighed and I think I managed to sleep for a couple minutes because I woke up and it was later. 

There was a steaming styrofoam cup on the table beside me and the room smelled of coffee, so I guess the nurse had stopped in and at least acknowledged my presence. 

My throat hurt, along with my stomach and my head. I just didn't want to be here anymore, be anywhere anymore. I just wanted to kind of disappear into empty nothingness. 

I reached over and took the hot cup into my hands, the cup bending in my hand when I brought it to my mouth. I sipped it slowly, scalding the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat. It tasted horrible, stinging my tongue with the strong coffee taste. 

It made my stomach churn and I had to put it down immediately, getting up off I the chair and rushing over to the back of the room where Louis had his own bathroom, cupping my hand over my mouth.

My head felt hot and my hands were cold, I was shivering but also sweating and it was just gross.

I heaved into my hand twice before I got to he toilet, lifting up the lid and heaving again. I could feel the burn of bile and stomach acid sliding into my throat and it spilled out of my mouth. I coughed and sputtered into the toilet, not getting much out besides stomach acid. Just thinking about having to go to work tonight made me want to vomit again.

But it felt great. It felt like all my worries and anxieties and stresses and every single thing going on at the moment were all in the toilet. But then they were right back in my body, they only stayed it for a couple of seconds. There was no lasting effect. They were still there, knocking on the back of my head and talking into my ears, taunting me until my head pounded so hard I groaned. 

I got up and flushed, wobbling over to the sink and rinsing out my mouth with the water. I looked horrid, eyes baggy and bloodshot, hair greasy and pushed back, and expression dull. 

I was still fairly light headed so I grabbed the walls walking back into the room. Louis' was still there, same as he's been.

I sat down and sighed, wiping a lock of his straight, sandy hair out of his eyes. It needed cut, it went past his eyebrows. I trailed my fingers down his skin, ghosting over his sunken cheeks and down to his chin, laying my head lightly on his chest. This way I could listen to his heart.

I stared at his lips; they weren't right. They were too pale, much too thin, and dry and cracked. Louis' usually had such pretty lips, bright pink and soft. 

And they were even prettier pressed against mine, my hand wrapped on his cheek. But just for a second, then I pulled away, not wanting to get caught. I could still feel the heat of his breath on my neck and it ran shivers down my spine. 

I was scared that even my lips couldn't make his brighter or softer, because he was still dull and pale. It hurt to look at him.

I winced and looked away, crumpling the bedsheets in my hands. I smelled like vomit and cigarettes and they would surely kick me out of the hospital for looking like this homeless person who hasn't showered in a week. It was partially true.

But I knew Louis was a lot stronger than he gave himself credit for. When he woke up I wanted to tell him that. That just because you're fighting against all odds doesn't mean you can't do it. It made me sad to see Louis take blame for things that weren't at all his fault, like if Travis were to ever hit him, it was Louis' fault. But I knew it wasn't and I think he knew it somewhere in his heart, too.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Harry's P.O.V.

"I always knew you liked him," Duce smiled ear to ear at me, his large body moving across the main bar area to grab empty glasses sitting at tables. I looked at the ground.

"I do, but shit, he's not doing well, I was just seeing him" I raised my voice too loud and got some weird looks. Duce sighed and looked up at me, dropping the wet rag he was using to wipe down the tables. 

"I know, but Harry, of the six years I've know you I've never heard you complain so much. You're never moping around constantly like this, you look like absolute shit, and when was the last time you showered? I know you love him, but," he sighed, giving up and going back to wiping the tables and I leaned against the wall and shook my head, exhausted. 

"That's the thing, D, I don't want to love him but I can't help myself. Believe me, I've tried getting rid of him but I couldn't ever keep myself away. His is bad, this is terrible but I can't fucking stop!" I had to restrain myself from pulling my own hair out. 

Duce's big hand landed on my shoulder and pulled me towards the back door. We'd become pretty good friends since is started working at the club, I guess I could considered him a friend even though he didn't know as much about me as he thought he did. 

We went out the back door and I slammed it behind me, feeling my face reddening with anger. He reached into his pocket hen turned to me. 

"Here, have one," I took a cig out of the box and held it between my lips while I lit it, smoke instantly burning the inside of my mouth and then seeping into my throat. 

I didn't want to talk to Duce, I didn't want to do anything but stand here against the wall and smoke until I had to go home. 

"You're being a selfish bitch, Harry, I know your boyfriend-"

"Friend,"

"Alright, whatever. I know he's not exactly been in the best situation lately and you haven't really ever had the easy way out in life but you know what? Being like this isn't going to get you any further than you already are," he spoke against his cigarette in his hand,taking drags from it once in a while and blowing it into my face. 

I didn't like the fact that he thought he knew every little thing about me and my private life and he had the right to just pull me outside and tell me what and how and when to deal with it. He knew absolutely nothing about me and if he did, I doubt he would be calling me a selfish bitch. 

"Watch what you say, D, I could easily just walk right out of this club and never walk back in," I replied calmly, not wanting to have to do that. 

"Too bad you need the money," he said under his breath. My eyes flashed wide at that glaring at him because it was incredibly true but none of his business. 

I liked that he didn't know anything about me, I liked that no one knew anything about me and I wanted to keep it that way because as soon as something slips then people ask questions and want to know everything. It becomes a mess that I could never clean up.

I knew I was fuming but I didn't know what to say. But I did know that if Duce kept pushing my buttons I would eventually explode. 

"Well there you go again, pouting your ass off when you've got someone you care about in a really bad situation; his boyfriend tried to kill him, I know, I heard it on the news. But Harry, all you do is come into work everyday with a fucking frown on your face, not wanting to socialise with anybody, moody as fuck, you stare off into space all the time and you talk complete shit about yourself. How and I supposed to stick up for you when you don't even stick up for yourself?"

I felt like I was going to be sick again but I didn't think it was physically possible, seeing the amount that I already had that day. I took a step back, crossing my arms over my chest defensively, staring into his chocolate eyes. 

This was why I never liked having 'close' friends. they always backfired and ended up throwing things at you.

"Look, Harry," his face softened, "I know you've told me before that you'd never had the most amazing relationship with your dad, but-"

That was it.

"He fucking raped me! In my own childhood bedroom. Duce, do you know what it's like to be touched like that, kissed like that, caressed like that, by your own father?" I stared at him for a good few seconds, daring him to answer me. 

I felt the heat pooling in my eyes, vision straining to see when it got cloudier and cloudier. 

"Do understand that? No. He fucked me up in the head, that's why I'm crazy. That's why I fucking hate people, I fucking hate friends, I fucking hate you, and I fucking hate Louis the most!" I spat out, not paying a whole lot of attention to my word choice but I realised as they flew out of my mouth how true they really were.

I hated how much Louis made me want him.

"He raped me," my voice cracked and tears spilled over my eyes.

I had not noticed how close I had gotten to him at that point, hands tightly gripping his showers, cig long forgotten on the ground, and yelling into his face. 

I would feel bad but I didn't; he deserved it for thinking I was overreacting. He looked stunned but I guess that was to be expected as he didn't know about what I was telling him.

"You expect me to walk around like a fucking sunshine all day when you don't know half the shit I've been through," I couldn't stop even when my voice became gravelly from yelling and crying and my head hurt I couldn't stop. 

And the look on his face didn't even stop me, scared, more like terrified, and wincing back every time I would emphasise a word. 

"And Louis? He's in a coma and might not ever come out of it and I'm so fucking scared out of my mind. I hate it when things are messy and right now everything is just fucked up, alright? So the next time I say something about not wanting to be here, don't jump the conclusion that I'm some bitchy young boy that has his head too far up his ass he can't see out because /maybe/ I actually don't want to be here." 

I should stop because I'd never seen Duce even close to shedding a tear before and he looked like he was about to now. But now I didn't even want to stop. 

I took a couple steps back, shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head slightly. I didn't really know what to thing anymore because just about everybody wanted me to honk something different. 

"I don't want to come back here, but like you said, I need the money. Now more than ever, too," I turned to leave throat burning from the cigarette and the lump from crying so much. I hadn't been realised how much I was until I felt the breeze on my soaked neck.

"Harry," Duce's voice croaked. I think if I were to turn around I would probably be sick right then and there. So I stayed facing the door.

I honestly don't care what you have to say to me, Duce. Because whatever it is, it probably won't be good," I mumbled. 

I didn't care if I missed the show tonight, we had enough backup dancers that no one but really dedicated costumers would notice. 

I reached for the handle to go back into the club then exit to through the front, maybe (okay, definitely) grabbing a couple drinks on the way out. 

I just wanted to get away and be with someone who took me seriously and I knew exactly who that was.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Harry's P.O.V. 

I think fear was eating me alive. 

Fear of messing everything up and not being able to clean it and fix it and put it back to normal.

Fear of saying something to someone that I might regret. That had actually already happened yesterday. I didn't even know if I was going to go back to work but I just didn't want to even look Duce in the eyes. He probably thought of me as disgusting and I wouldn't hesitate to agree with him.

I was more afraid of death, more specifically Louis' death. It could be just around the corner, he could be dead right now and I wouldn't know because I haven't charged my cell phone in a week so they wouldn't be able to contact me. He could be laying cold and still on that bed, even colder and ore still than he had been when I'd last visited him. 

I hated leaving, every time I got here I just wanted to stay there even though it was messier and more germy than any other place I'd ever been to. It made me want to be sick every time I was there. 

I pressed on the gas peddle, speeding through a yellow light just in time, and going around a corner, just a couple blocks away from seeing Louis. I had a gut feeling, like the bile in my gut couldn't stop moving, my head wouldn't ever stop pounding, it wasn't good. 

My phone was probably sitting on my couch at home, with three missed calls from the hospital saying they did all they could but it hadn't been enough. I felt like I was going to break the steering wheel.

I sped into the parking lot and parked as close at I could, grabbing my black hoodie from the passenger seat and pulling it over my head as I got out. The chill bit my lips and went right through my jeans and into my legs, making my bones feel cold. 

"Can I see Louis Tomlinson?" 

The receptionist gave me an odd look but I didn't blame her. 

"I'm his boyfriend, Harry Styles, I really need to see him, please? I was here yesterday and the day before," I whined, voice wobbly, just desperate to get into the room because my mind kept making up images from when he was shot, blood everywhere and I could almost taste it in my mouth. 

"Oh, you're the kid that slept in the waiting room the other night," she said monotonously. "Room 200."

"Thank you," I said and turned around to head toward the room. 

"Sir?" I heard the woman's voice and turned around slowly. I just wanted to see Louis. "Are you alright? You look so pale," she noted. It's not like I didn't already know that.

I shot her a glare. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," I didn't need some sixty year old telling me how terrible I looked. 

I rushed through the halls without waiting for a reply, pushing past people to get to Louis' room. I swallowed hard, trying to clear my mouth and throat of the metallic taste. I hated blood, it made my stomach churn.

I stopped at the door, taking a shaking breath at the door before twisting the handle and stepping through, preparing myself for the worst. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Louis' P.O.V.

Hot breath was making a wet mark on my neck and I had no idea where I was.

I heard a sigh and a shift on furniture. Was I in my house someone's house? All I knew was that everything hurt and there was a constant black numbing around me, like I couldn't move even if I wanted to. 

There was a soft weeping. I hated it when people cried around me, even though I seemed to cry around everyone else. It just made me want to break into tears every time I saw someone else shedding them. 

I almost couldn't hear it, though, I was distant and foggy, yet somehow right beside me. It was rough and gravely like sharp knives, cutting into my ears. 

I thought for a second that I recognised the voice but I just couldn't put a face with it. It was so achingly familiar, though, and I just wanted to wake up from whatever this state i was in and see who it was.

The voice was weak though and I couldn't exactly make out if it was saying words and sentences or just nothingness because that's what everything was; nothingness and pure blackness. But then the voice became smoother, louder,and I could start to decipher what it was saying but just snippets at a time.

"Really sorry...don't know what I would do...know how you feel," and the whole time all I could think about was who it was, the voice was so familiar and I knew who it was and I just wanted to jump out of my body and shake myself awake. 

I kept listening, straining myself to hear outside the noise and rush of blood in my veins and my heart thudding. The voice echoed around my head, bounced off the walls of my skull and making it hard to understand. 

"I wish you were awake, Lou, so I could see your pretty eyes light up," it went from being vey quiet almost to the point of silence to a loud straight in my ears noise, like my mind was still trying to decide what to do.

"I don't know what I'm doing and if you don't ever wake up I'm going to have to kill myself," the tone of the voice made me want to scream. It was so empty and dull, like the person had already given every single thing they had and left absolutely nothing for themselves. It sounded painfully drained. And I believed what it was saying. 

I think if I could just think of who it was, who the gruff, stripped voice belonged to then I could wake up.

It was on the very tip I my tongue and I could taste it, I knew how they tasted but how? 

"I want to have control," the voice said into the darkness of my head. "Of everything, Louis, I hate it when things get messed up. I could've saved you, I knew you weren't safe. You wear your heart on the edge of your sleeve and Louis, one day someone might come along and snatch it off. Or maybe they'd be mean about it and knock it on the ground and then step on it and grind it into their shoe and, and," I heard the voice sniffle and I wanted so badly to just reach over and wipe their tears away. But I was trapped in this box of blackness.

"You're so strong, Lou, I know you're strong," the person's voice was a lot calmer and more collected, but quieter. It had been steadily growing more clear and easier to understand the more it talked. "But sometimes, saying you don't care, brushing it off your shoulder, is just easier than admitting you do." 

If it was possible to internally cry than I was doing it. Of course I was crying, though, I always seemed to be. But this person was so right and sounded so safe, they were my safe zone and I knew them. I just had to remember the name.

"And I know this because I know what it is like to feel just plain fucked up and hated, wanting to constantly slam your head against the wall to try and make the internal pain go away. I'm really sorry I was always so bitter to you, you never deserved it at all."

There was a long pause filled with blank silence and I was screaming because I desperately wanted to make sure this person was okay, they obviously weren't feeling spectacular and I just really needed to reach out and give them a hug. But I couldn't move my legs or hands or anything outside my mind and I didn't know why. 

"I've learned that not asking for help can be the biggest cry for help there is and Louis, you didn't say a word," the voice jokes out. I could so this, I could wake up, I knew who this was. "Please wake up, Lou, I don't know what is do if I never got to see your eyes again, if you just ended like this. So beautiful," the deep voice praised. 

It was a shock, really, when I felt cold dry things on my lips because I went from not being able to feel much of anything on the outside to that. 

But I knew who it was now, it was all so clear. His voice was engraining it's name into my soul, making sure I would never again forget it. 

I woke up staring at the night sky. It was the most peculiar colour I'd ever seen but all the while the most beautiful. There were millions of bright stars shimmering at me and I could swim I how deep they went, forever and ever, the never ending galaxies. 

But then the skies started to move and I got scared because I didn't want them go away. They got smaller and smaller until there was only white around them, two of them, exactly the same, and I knew what is been looking at hadn't actually been a night sky. It'd been a pair of eyes Harry's eyes.

"Harry," I murmured into his mouth and his tongue traced along my bottom lip before entering, breathing me in. He closed his eyes but I kept mine open, just to make sure he wouldn't disappear because that was the probably the worst that could happen at the moment. 

It was airy and open-mouthed, hot breath spilling out onto my cheeks and unbelievably slow but I wouldn't ever wish it any faster. I felt him smile into my mouth, bringing his cold hand to my cheek, and something told me that was his first genuine smile in a long time.

"You're awake," he breathed against my cheek, galaxy eyes shining straight into mine. 

"Hi, Harry," my voice croaked. 

~~~~~~~~~~


	18. Chapter Sixteen

Louis' P.O.V.

Where was Travis? 

"W-where's Travis?" I stuttered out, heart racing and I could hear it on the heart monitor beside me. I quickly searched the room before looking at Harry, who was sitting on the side of my bed in a black hoodie.

He looked down in his lap and I stared at him, trying to burn the answer out of his head with my gaze. "Har-"

"Jail," he said quietly while my heart slowly sunk through the gross hospital bed. My mouth felt slack so I sat up, but he pressed his hands to my chest and pushed me back down. 

"You have to rest Lou, you can't get up just yet, here, I'll call for the nurse so they know you're up," Harry said, reaching over me to press the red button that read 'assistance'. 

I pulled at the IV in my hand, playing with the hospital gown I had on. "By why is he in jail, what happened?" I asked, frantic for answers. My voice was quiet and thick from sleep. 

I needed to know now and Harry was being weird and hesitant and distant, like he was out of it since he'd kissed me. 

Harry looked at me like I was a ghost, biting his lips and leaning in slightly. "Louis, he tried to kill you. There were security cameras that caught his license plate and the police tracked him down within a couple of hours. Travis is gone Louis, he'll never get out of prison," Harry dragged on, each word getting thicker and thicker in my ears.

It was then I noticed the pain. Not just the kind of pain from cut perhaps, but more like a knife driven straight through my side, right under my rib cage. 

It throbbed and I brought my hand up to my mouth and bit it to keep myself from screaming. I winced hard and felt a couple tears spill over onto my cheeks. 

A knock came from the other side of my room door followed by two nurses coming in.

"Mr. Tomlinson, it's great to see you're awake!" The one with the short blonde bob spoke first. "Looks like you're feeling a bit of pain, which is to be expected. We'll have some pain medications in for you shortly. You shouldn't need any procedures done so you will be released within a day or two depending on how you react to the medicine, alright?" 

I nodded quickly but then winced in pain. 

"A doctor will be in to check your vitals and bring your medications. In the meantime, you shouldn't be walking around much. We'll leave you and your boyfriend alone now, Mr. Tomlinson," the older one said. 

I watched them follow one another out the door and shut it quietly behind them. 

Boyfriend?

"Boyfriend?" I turned to Harry who was staring at me with wide eyes, biting his lower lip.

"I-I had to say that to get them to let me see you, um, to come in here, yeah," he hesitated and looked at his hands.

"Oh, okay," I had to stop myself from say it would be okay, though, you kissed me, Harry, and you have done it before and I always love it, why don't you want this?

I thought back to that voice I heard while I wasn't awake, that had been Harry. It'd been Harry saying he wished he had control, Harry saying he didn't know what he was doing, that he knew what it felt like to be fucked up and hated, and to feel all the guilt of my being here. 

"How long, exactly, have I been, you know," I broke that silence. I didn't know how to put it, I hadn't been exactly asleep.

Harry kept staring at his hands and I then noticed, staring at his face, how sunken in his cheeks were, how oily his hair looked, how grey he looked, how he really needed a good shave. 

It made me conscientious of my own appearance. I hadn't looked at myself yet but if I were to guess I would say I didn't look to nice. 

"You were in a coma for about three days," he said, rubbing his face. It hurt to see him so tore up. "They said you would either wake up soon or not at all and I was so scared you weren't going to wake up at all," he said in a wobbly voice. 

I swallowed hard and found it difficult to keep looking at him. I settled for staring at his hands that were shaky and grey, pinching at each other and making small red marks on the skin there. 

"Sorry," I mumbled. I knew I shouldn't be apologising but he looked so crushed and I felt bad. 

"Don't apologise, Louis, I'm just happy you're awake," Harry sighed and looked over. He looked like he hadn't slept for days and I wouldn't be surprised if it was true.

"Harry, are you alright? You look just, tired, and," 

"I've heard," he looked down. I immediately felt bad; he obviously wasn't having a great time and I had to go and point out how ratty he looked. 

I almost reached out to put my hand on his arm but his voice stopped me. "Can I hug you?" He said, almost a whisper.

yesyesyesyes

I nodded instead and unfolded my arms, letting his body collapse onto mine and press me even further into the mattress. 

He was gentle and careful not to press hard on the area that hurt, but it still stung when he moved. I didn't say anything, though.

"Missed you, Lou," I just smiled and wished I could go home. This place was disgustingly clean.

He sighed into my chest, head pressing into my shoulder, and I felt the flutter of his eyelashes. He laid half on the bed and half off, arms around my body, and looked terribly uncomfortable yet he stayed like that for a long time, just breathing. 

It seemed like sometimes breathing was the easiest thing to do, but something about Harry told me that for him, breathing involved a lot more than just a beating heart and a will to do it. 

The air he breathed was thick and labouring, filled with things that clung to his throat when he took a breath, making it difficult.

"Can't wait for you to come home with me," he mumbled, sounding like he hadn't slept for days. 

It hit me that he said 'with me' a second later, like a ten year old talking to his brand new puppy at the pet shop. 

"What?"

Harry paused before he answered, closing his eyes while he talked. "We need to sell your house."

I felt my eyes gape, "why?" 

"Because how else are you going to pay for this? I know for a fact that you don't have insurance, Louis. And you can just live with me, you don't want that?" he asked, sounding as if he had everything in the world perfectly planned out when I knew he didn't. 

I knew it was a mask, I knew it was fake. 

"Well, sure, but," but it was my house. I lived there for years with Trav and we fell in love there. it was also my home.

"Trust me, Louis, it'll work and it'll be okay. You shouldn't stay there anyway, you wouldn't like it. It's a new house so it'll go quickly, we can just take out loans for now."

All these we's and us' and you and I's were making my head spin, but in the best possible way. I nodded at him because I trusted him.

"Get to come home with me, I'll make you tea," he said, tracing his thumb over the IV I my left hand. He seemed to enjoy saying that. 

He had moments like these where I could believe he wanted to love me, that he was willing to put forth effort, green staring up at me with his head on my chest. 

But then he had moments when I thought he almost despised me, he didn't know what to make of me and just put me in the corner to deal with later. 

Something Travis had done much too often.

Maybe he didn't want to love me because when you love someone, you fall in love with them, and falling meant landing and landing would be just too painful for him.

And then sometimes you can't help but fall in love when all you need is a small push off the edge.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Louis' P.O.V.

Thorns and cotton, water and wind. 

Weights and feathers, where have you been?

Rocks are silly, just get in your way. 

You kiss my lips, but won't ever stay.

Your breath smells like liqueur and cigarettes and sadness. 

I can't feel your touch but I've known you're an atlas.

I was in the in between spaces of awake and unconsciousness, probably on too many meds. I wasn't exactly sure what day it was and I think it was Harry who came in and started talking to me.

"Louis, Looooouuiis. I brought you some coffee. They said you can eat and drink now if you want," his voice said when he stepped into the white room. 

I saw him. The curly hair. The dashing green eyes. I knew this boy meant everything to me and he was bringing me this? This steaming cup of hot shit? 

"Mnnghh.. Bet it tastes like shit!" My voice raised unexpectantly.

"It does actually but it'll help you wake up more," Harry laughed. "The nurses put you on extra meds last night because you couldn't sleep, said you were a sobbing mess and your stomach hurt. They didn't want your stitches to rip from you squirming so they gave you more medicine and you went right to sleep," he spoke softly and slowly while I sipped the mildly warm liquid.

"You're so pretty, Harry," I noted, reaching out for his curls but somehow missing every time. I probably looked like a right idiot.

He laughed and I watched as his dimples multiplied. I didn't know why he thought everything I was doing was so funny, I was just drinking this coffee he brought me.

"Basically, if we keep pumping you full of the medications and you don't move around much, you can come home tomorrow. Alright?" He asked. What, did he think I couldn't hear him or something because he was talking damn slow. 

He handed me a cracker and I took it and brought it up to my face, examining it carefully and giving him the cup to hold for me.

"It's just a cracker, Lou, you can eat it," he told me, grinning and leaning his elbows on the bed. 

I bit into it and it crumbled, peices falling onto my sheets. 

"Here, why don't we get you a napkin," Harry mumbled, looking around and grabbing a box of tissues from the bedside table.

I shook my head and put the rest of the dry cracker in my mouth. "Don't worry, Hazzybear, the squirrels will get it," I told him with a full mouth. Why should he had to clean it up when it would make a nice snack for some cute squirrels?

He just chuckled and shook his head. If anything, he was the one on medications right now, not me.

"Here Louis, sit up," Harry said, putting his hands under my arms and shifting me so my back leaned against the headboard. 

A better view it was, him sitting cross legged at the edge of the bed holding my shit coffee. 

The way he looked down onto his hands in his lap I could see the dips I his collar bones, milky white skin with a ghosting of goosebumps. He looked like the Snow White princess. Someone like him deserved to be peppered with kisses until he glowed.

"Harry,"

"Yeah?" His head snapped up to look at me and his eyes looked strangely greener than ever.

"I need to tell you something," I said in a hushed voice.

"Okay, Louis, go ahead, no one's in here except you and me" he smiled his bright smile, rimmed with dark lips.

I waved my fingers for him to come closer. This was a secret, at least it seemed that's what he wanted it to be. No one could hear it.

He looked confused, but obeyed and crawled up the bed, situating himself beside me and sitting there smirking.

"Closer, closer, Harry. It's a secret," I teased, watching him lean forward so his ear was near my mouth. 

"You're silly, Lou," he chuckled. He breathed in my face, so close to my mouth. Just a little closer..

I brought my hand up to the back of his head and pulled it the further distance, smushing our lips together. Whether I was high or not, this was what I wanted.

I felt Harry hesitate at first, not moving his lips and my heart began to sink, but I swiped my tongue along his bottom lip and he quickly closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and visibly melted.

The white room filled with the sounds of lips sliding softly together and breaths blending. I let him lean forward, placing his arms more onto the bed so he could get a better angle.

Hands moved to touch my neck, Harry's tongue venturing further. I sucked on his bottom lip and released it, breathing heavily between us. he stared at my mouth, lips wet from his, then looked back into my eyes, closing his mouth and sitting back.

That was it. That's what he always did. He did that every time we kissed. I saw the regret swimming I his eyes and I wanted to reach over and grab it out. 

It sent a stab through my stomach that he regretted kissing me. And it wasn't just his time, it was every time we've ever kissed.

I watched as he just got up and turned to walk out the door.

"Harry," I called, sitting up. I could feel my face heating up.

"What?" He hesitated, but turned around to face me. He looked defeated and I almost felt bad but this was getting ridiculous. 

"Why the hell do you keep coin this? I don't get it," my heart sped up and I though for a second that he might be able to hear it.

"Doing what, Lou?" He asked in in innocently. 

"Come on, Harry, don't act like you don't know. Stop walking out," I stared at him staring at me, waiting for an explanation. 

"I just have to go to work, Louis, it's almost six, sorry."

"You better be sorry," I snapped back, sounding angrier than I actually was. But I was angry and that was the thing. Angry that he kept acting like it didn't matter, that I didn't matter to him.

I hated how scared he was all the time, what was there to be scared, really?

I watched him swallow.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly before turning around and walking out of the room, leaving me with my jaw gaping.

It was always the same, though.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Louis' P.O.V.

Sticks and stones will break your bones and I know that words will forever scar you.

I have seen your insides; they're painted all black.  
The colors are spilled out on the floor.

It was times like this when you looked at me, drunk and incoherent  
That I could swear I loved you even more.  
~~~~~~~~

Harry took me home the next day around night time. 

I tried not to look at his face because I knew I would give into his bagged eyes, pale skin, and obviously fake, plastered on smile. He would try to talk to me but I just put on a straight face and kept looking away. 

The doctors gave me meds that I would have to take for the next couple of months or until I was completely healed. An infection was the last thing I needed and besides my own body, there wasn't anything left I could use to pay the medical bill with already. 

I did feel guilty, though, giving Harry the cold shoulder. I didn't really know how long I would keep it up for but when it did break, I hope he would actually realise why I started it in the first place. 

I stared out the window of his black car, watching people in the city walk by. I was selfish; they didn't even have a place to sleep for food to eat and it made me feel like a brat.

Maybe that's what I was, I was being a spoiled brat. It was something I could hear coming out of Travis' mouth regularly, that and a lot of other unpleasant things. 

Harry was so much different than Travis. He was clever and humble, at least he seemed it on the outside. Travis would always lash out, had attacks of 'this is your fault, now we have to start everything over' and 'you ruin everything'. 

It made my stomach hurt, thinking of Travis, or maybe it was the fact that I was shot there but either way it wasn't a pleasant feeling. 

I missed him so much, but I didn't at the same time, he was where he deserved to be, jail, but it felt like he should also be in my arms-

"Louis," my head snapped up because for a second I thought I heard Travis' voice but then I realised that it was only Harry in the car with me.

"What?" I asked softly.

"Stop thinking about him, I know you are," he told me, keeping his eyes on the road. 

I clenched my fingers around the bag of different bottles of medications, trying to decide what to say. He was right; I had been thinking about him and it was making me sick but I really didn't want to stop. 

I loved his soft, dark stubble in the morning and the nights he would make us both spaghetti. I tried not to think of the times he was too drunk to shave or too angry to cook anything for days. That was the part of Travis my mind was pushing away. 

I kept my face neutral and stared out he window until we pulled up his driveway. 

"Alright, I cleaned out the living room for you, should be enough. The telly doesn't work and the lights sometimes don't even work but who needs those anyway?" He said all in one breath, turning off the car and getting out of his side. 

I hated how unaffected he was by me. No, Harry, I am doing this so you will pay more attention to me, not less, I thought to myself. 

Harry unlocked his door and I stood awkwardly beside him. He had to shove it a couple of times to get it open. He stepped in and I followed him into his dark house. It looked slighter darker than the last time I was there, if that was even possible.

It was big, for a townhouse, and I could tell there were more than two floors. I watched him throw his stuff down beside the front door and go straight into the kitchen. 

I sat down on his couch, looking around. I felt like shit, no doubt, but I wasn't the least tired. I had slept for so long today and I didn't feel like sleeping even more.

I could hear Harry rummaging around in his kitchen, clunking glasses and running water. His home wasn't extremely tidy, but it was a weird kind of neat. It was clean, but not mentally. It made my head feel dark and murky and I instantly wanted to curl up and not move for days when I wandered a new room.

Every wall was painted the same color, all floors were the same tiles except for what I assumed was his bedroom, which was covered in a grayish white carpet. 

I check in the kitchen, just barely peaking around the corner wall, to make sure Harry was occupied. He tipped his head back as he finished a glass of what was either water or some kind of alcohol. I assumed it was alcohol because he grabbed the bottle it came from and poured more of the clear liquid, tipping it back. 

I turned back around the corner, not wanting to watch Harry purposely intoxicate himself anymore. Instead, I headed down the hallway and looked around me before I quietly tiptoed up the stairs. 

Harry was incredibly intriguing, and I was in the motherload of all places, his house. It was where he slept, ate, bathed, and literally everything else. I could find out anything I wanted to if I just looked hard enough. 

Yes, I was snooping and snooping isn't exactly considered a good thing to do especially ten minutes after I walked in the door, but it was alright as long as I didn't get caught, right? 

I made sure to step quietly enough that the stairs didn't creak on the way up, finally reaching the top. What confused me slightly was that there was only one room. 

And the door was closed and that was the first closed door I had seen in his whole house. He had just seemed to keep all the doors open but I guess not.

I'd might as well look at this one, I climbed the stairs for it and I couldn't hear Harry downstairs so he must've gone into his room or something. And if I did end up getting caught I could always go with the old 'oh, I was just looking for the bathroom'. 

I reached for the knob and twisted it, almost surprised at how easy it opened. The door basically opened itself and a cold breeze immediately fanned my face. 

The first thing I noticed was the fact the the floor was completely different than the rest of the house, dark wood, and the walls were a baby blue. 

The second thing I noticed was that this room wasn't normal. It was a normal room, but not for a twenty year old man without children to have in his home.

For a second I thought that maybe this could be the room that maybe one of his sister's kids would sleep in if they ever came over but the more I thought about how Harry has never talked about his family, the more I doubted he even had one. 

The room was almost surreal; blue walls, various toys scattered on the floor, a messy bed dressed in a truck-covered quilt. The drawers were opened and it looked like a ten year old boy had just gotten up one day and left. 

Another thing I noticed was a pile of clothes near the back. Like someone just taken them off and threw them in a pile there. I strode quietly through the room, over to the window that I saw was wide open, probably the reason it was so cold. 

It was dark, winter approaching and I wondered why in the world Harry would leave this window opened when he was already struggling to heat his house, the heat would just go right out the window. 

I leaned on the window cill, pressing my hands into the chipping wood and looking over the edge. 

I looked down and watched as Harry looked out into his back hard from his small balcony, in the same position as I was, directly below me. 

A small, dark red glow was visible and I watched him bring it closer to his mouth, only the slightest bit of his body visible in the light, or lack of. I heard him sigh softly and blow smoke out of his nose. 

I watched contently for a few minutes, wondering just how long Harry would stay out here. I saw him flick the fading butt off the side of the balcony and he rubbed his face. 

Sometimes I wondered why he always seemed so upset. I knew he felt somewhat guilty for me going to the hospital (which he absolutely shouldn't) but other than that I hadn't ever seen him laugh and smile and have just a plain good time for more than an hour at a time.

He turned around and opened the door, cursing, and walked in, slamming it behind him. 

My eyes widened and all I could think of was needing get out. Something about that room was off, weird, creepy, and I knew I shouldn't be in it. 

I spun around headed for the door, but not before almost tripping over about a dozen children's books, of course. I cursed, but quietly, and made myself be more cautious the rest of the way out. 

But as soon as I got to the door I realised the window was still open. I didn't know if I should close it or not. It would save Harry money on his energy bill but what if he noticed it and then figured out that I was in here? 

The key to snooping was to not get caught and to do that I needed to leave everything the way I found it. 

I looked at the room one last time, cringing at how odd it was, and turned to walk out, shutting the door silently. Just as I'd found it.

I just barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before slamming into a Harry. A wave of smoke hit me and I stared at his blood shot wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows. 

"What are you doing?" He asked in a strangely quiet voice, almost as if he was afraid he was going to get caught, too.

"Just l-looking for the, uh, the bathroom, sorry," I stuttered, biting on my lip and searching his face for any kind of reaction.

He stared at me for what seemed like hours, probably purposely trying to make me feel uncomfortable, with that down right creepy stare and all I could smell was the alcohol and smoke on his breath.

"Okay," he seemed to change his mind in a matter of a split second, face shifting to something of a pleasant demeanour and I was already 100 percent positive he was either drunk, high, or both. "'S down the hall that way, last door or the right, don't you remember from the last time you were here, Lou?" He moved to the side and I began my way down the hall.

"Yeah, sorry, I don't know what I was doing, I remember it now, thanks," I said quickly before slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me.

I felt around for the switch to turn the lights on and found them and flipped them both up.

It was a couple seconds and I thought that maybe I would have to use my phone to see but then they came on, lighting up the small room.

I looked in the mirror and actually gasped, startled at my own appearance. I knew I wouldn't look my greatest coming out of the hospital but I didn't know I looked that bad. 

My hair was about down to my shoulders and it was greasy and my face was disgustingly oily. My face was grossly sunken in And if I were to take a guess; I'd say I lost about ten pounds. 

I wasn't exactly aloud to eat everything I wanted yet, the main doctor that had taken care of me made me a list of things I shouldn't eat and how often I should eat. 

But I wasn't even hungry so I wasn't about to pull out the list anyway.

I turned the faucet on to warm and stuck my hands under it, feeling sad about it when the temperature only got a little warm. 

I splashed it on my face a couple times then looked around the bathroom for a clean towel, not finding one and eventually using my shirt. 

His bathroom was small and cramped, but just like the rest of he house, it was oddly neat. It was centred around a beige colour, standard for bathrooms, and had a walk in shower. 

I turned the knob and hit the lights on my way out, closing the door most of the way.

Harry appeared in front of me no more than seconds after I walked out of the bathroom.

"I'm going to bed Lou, I have to go to work tomorrow," he slurred. it could tell he wasn't super hammered by he definitely wasn't himself. 

I nodded and searched over his face, which seemed to contort to something nice like sobriety for a second while he leaned in and kissed my forehead, both hands on the side of my head. I felt his fingers weave through my hair once before all pulling away.

His lips were dry and chapped but I didn't care. 

"G'night, Louis," 

Harry was nothing but giving and I was just a selfish prick.


	21. Chapter Twenty

Louis' P.O.V.

Harry laid on top of me, his larger body smothering my small one into the soft sheets of his bed, grinding his hips in small circles. I could feel his erection pressing roughly into my own, prominent and hot.

He licked hotly into my mouth and I dragged my nails crookedly down his bare back, slightly damp from the sweat that had accumulated there after ten minutes. 

After Harry had come home from work he'd practically pounced on me, with questions of course, about if I was feeling okay and if I'd slept enough and if I'd found enough food or if he needed to run to the store. He was honestly the most caring and thoughtful person I've ever met. 

His body was pressed flesh against mine, our breathing jumbled between airy kisses and soft words to each other. 

"Always wanted to do this," he cooed into my neck, working his legs to constantly be rubbing up against mine, creating friction so we didn't have to worry that the house didn't had heating. "You don't know what you do to me," he whispered back into my mouth, licking along my bottom lip before kissing it again and again.

It was a euphoria, Harry's body moving in waves against mine, curls fanning over our two faces so it was just us and the breath he used to make the words he whispered. 

He stroked along my chest with the arm that wasn't supporting his own body and toyed with my nipples, tweaking gently and then shifting so he could place kisses on the base of my rib cage, up to my neck and all over my jaw, moving back down to do it all over again.

"Ngghh," I couldn't contain my moans, watching through fluttering eyes as his hair tickled my chest, moving up or down when he sucked the skin there into his mouth. 

His scent was something different, though, more creamy and like vanilla than I ever remembered. It almost didn't smell like him at all. 

I ignored my senses and bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut because I absolutely loved getting off with Harry. It was just us, no one interrupting and no one interrupting my thoughts, either. 

All I wanted to think about was harryharryharryharryharry and that was how it was going to be.

He pulled his lips up, detaching them from my stomach. A wet spot laid there along with more than a couple love bites. That's what I loved; getting marked up by him. 

I was now all his and I knew he would protect me, protect me from dangers like my past. Harry was strong and I knew he could fight anyone off. 

He tipped his head up and the moonlight shone across his face a certain way that for a second, I thought his eyes had turned a completely different colour. 

They shined and glistened up at me, seeming to ask permission to go on. I nodded and took an inhale of that vanilla scent that was stronger and more foreign than I remember.

I knotted my hands in his hair and closed my eyes, leaning my head back and focusing of the feel of his tongue slowly traveling down my happy trail. 

"Louis, Louis," he whispered and my breath caught in my throat when I realised, after he called my name a couple more times, that it wasn't Harry's deep gravelly voice. 

My eyes shot open and I gulped, scared to look down and see what my brain was telling me I would see. 

The smell, the voice, everything that hadn't seemed absolutely perfect about the moment, my mind wandering to that familiar someone, that familiar some one who shouldn't be here holding me, kissing me, loving me. 

I jumped and slid my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around him just before his hands could reach where they wanted to go. 

"Travis! Stop, what are you doing?" I shook violently and my whole body tensed up when I saw his eyes glare at me with nothing but hatred, hands reaching and grabbing around my neck in the poorly lit room, fingers pinching the skin between his large fingers. 

He grunted and sputtered into my face, weight heavier than Harry would ever be. His grip tightened and I actually started to feel my throat close in on itself. 

My lungs burned for air that I just couldn't manage to suck in and Travis trapped my hands against he bed with his knees.

"What did I fucking tell you, Louis?" He growled, face contorting like I've never seen it before. My head felt hot and was painfully throbbing with pressure and I was sure it was bright red.

My lungs screamed for air but the only thing I could do was lay there and writhe beneath him, his hands getting tighter and tighter around my neck, my eyes watering and overflowing with tears. 

"I told you that if I couldn't have you," his hands constricted even more and I needed to kick and scream for Harry but I just couldn't, "than fucking no one can, god dammit, Louis, wake the fuck up!" He screamed, face inches from mine and his breath wasn't nearly as warm and nice as Harry's.

He shook me and I started to feel like a doll, pain going numb all over my body and muscles going limp. 

My eyes fluttered and watered, tears still pouring down my cheeks until I realised I was just floating. Floating around above everything, it was soft and so much better.  
~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes shot open so fast it hurt. 

The cold air hit me like rocks to the face and I immediately coughed and gasped for air. 

I heard someone shush me and opened my eyes to see a blurry Harry, shadow thrown across his face because it was still dark out. He pushed long hair out of my face and helped me sit up.

"C'mon Lou, sit up, it's okay," I couldn't help but be so relieved it was Harry, Harry's warm hands rubbing my sides, Harry's soft voice telling me to be calm. But then I thought I couldn't ever really be so sure.

I also couldn't help but burst into tears as soon as I sat upright, squeezing my eyes shut because for some reason I could still feel Trav's grip around my neck, hands cold and shaking me, his gruff voice still yelling in my ear. Fucking no one. 

"Harry, Harry, oh my- shit," I couldn't catch my breath and I flung my arms around Harry, feeling his bare chest against my cheek. 

"Shh, Lou, it was just a bad dream, it's okay now," he spoke quietly, words not really helping. The dream definitely felt real, his hands, eyes, fuck, it even smelled like Travis. 

I shook my head. There was so much on my mind and I just wanted to sleep but I felt as if I went back to sleep, I might have another dream like that. 

I still felt bad for not speaking to Harry all that much, after thinking it through, I had no reason to ignore him. I also shouldn't be so selfish, there's no way I can just live on Harry's couch, I'd cause too much trouble and that was a fact.

I sobbed into his chest, the memory of the dream and the glow of Travis' eyes still haunting me. He rubbed my back and tried to calm me once in a while, but mainly just sat and listened to me ramble and mumble and cry. 

I hated how I had been so into it; I'd never felt so loved before in my life than I did in that moment in my dream; kissing Harry like that. But then it had changed, morphing into a monster like the ones under your bed at night, trying to hurt me. 

I knew Harry would never hurt me, but I couldn't bring myself to fully trust anyone with all my heart anymore. Travis had said it; 'no, baby, I'd never hurt you, I love you,' he would tell me.

"Harry," I asked, voice rough from crying my eyes out so much. He stared down at me, eyes drooping with sleep. I must've yelled and woke him up or something. Dammit, not only was I being a rude, selfish prick, but I was also depriving Harry of his sleep. I had a lot to say.

"Yeah, Louis?"

"You'd never, you know, hurt me or anything, would you? Like, like Travis would, I mean," I croaked, the last part coming out in a whisper.

Harry looked shocked at what had come out of my mouth, staring at me with furrowed eyebrows and mouth slightly open. I raked my eyes over his face because he wasn't talking and I was starting to think that he was going to say yes, he would hurt me.

But instead, the grip around my back tightened and a thumb was wiping under my eyes, gathering the liquid there. 

"Why do you think I would ever hurt you?" He asked, shaking his head slightly.

I just shrugged in response and tried to look somewhere else, anywhere else, besides his eyes. Now I felt stupid for asking that question. 

"'M sorry, Haz, I can leave tomorrow. I can just go back to my old house, right?" It was what popped into my head first.

Harry looked at me like a child and I was since again regretting what I'd said, looking off somewhere else. 

"First of all, with you in the state you're in, I wouldn't want you living by yourself even if you could. Second, Lou, I told you already. A new couple already snagged the house and all we need to do is clean it out and do a bunch of paperwork. I'm sorry but I saw this coming and knew if would be best if you just stayed with me."

I just nodded and sighed. There was nothing I could do about the issue now, it was practically already sold. 

The house was fairly new and in good shape so I wasn't surprised at how fast people had jumped on the offer.

"Plus, I like having you around," and I pretended I didn't actually hear that.

"Sorry for kind of ignoring you earlier, Harry, I don't know it must've been the meds," I laughed a bit, attempting to lift the heavy atmosphere of he room, "I'm not even sure how many I'm on at the moment." 

Harry had a small smile on his lips and he pecked my forehead, which brought me to realise I had just about the worst headache at the moment but I didn't want to bring that up and make Harry feel bad for kissing my head. 

"Exactly. Which is why you're going to tuck yourself back under these blankets and go back to sleep," he said, standing up and stretching a bit. I still felt bad for waking him up in the first place.

I nodded at him and watched the muscles move under his skin on his back when he walked out of the room, after saying goodnight, of course.

I just hoped I didn't have another dream.


	22. Chapter TwentyOne

Louis' P.O.V. 

I could smell the soap and see the hot steam rise from the crack of the bathroom door. 

I'd told Harry he needed to take a shower because his hair was starting to look like he had been putting butter in it every morning. He'd had a weird expression on his face, like he was relieved almost. 

I heard the water shut off and heavy droplets drip onto the floor of the tub.

Harry had insisted that he would deal with my house and medical bills; finding out that he actually had a bit more money than he thought in a different bank account but still not very much. 

He had told me that most of it went to his boss, Duce. It was all really confusing to me and he just told me not to worry. He made sure I rest 24/7 and the point was that I was getting bored. 

I watched from in the kitchen as the bathroom door swung open and Harry stepped out, wearing nothing but a very small, white towel around his waist. 

His wet hair dangled across his face, flushed pink, and I almost choked on the glass of water I'd been standing there sipping on.

Like I didn't want him enough when he was dry and fully clothed.

He strode off and I turned around, seeing as it was getting late once again, and grabbed the white bag the hospital gave me to put all my meds in and took them out one at a time, lining them up on the counter top to look at.

I just stared at them for what seemed like minutes, wondering how the hell did I get here? Travis in jail for trying to hurt me and now I had to stay at Harry's house because I was too broke to live at my own and then I remembered Harry saying he wouldn't want me living by myself even if I could afford it and I think that thought just saved me from having an anxiety attack. 

"I do that sometimes," a voice came from across the room. I looked up to see Harry again, his time he was dressed I boxer shorts and an oversized t-shirt. 

"What?" I wondered what he was talking about, he was always so interesting and I got the feeling that he was a book of secrets and emotions but I just couldn't get past the table of contents.

"Just stare at my meds like you were just doing. I hate taking them-I don't take them," he corrected himself, chuckling a bit as he walked over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. 

I could still see the water droplets at the ends of his hair, falling to the floor every once in a while and I watched him tip back his head and finish off the glass, setting it beside the sink and turning to me and leaning against the counter. 

I wanted to ask what he needed medications for, why there were so many, was he hurt, too, was he hurt on the inside and maybe that was why he needed them? 

But I couldn't bring myself to speak up so I just stood and stared at the curves of his face, skin soft and milky and oh so porcelain.

"You alright, Lou?" My eyes snapped up to his and I realised I had been having one of this day dream things. I tasted a saltiness in my mouth and also realised I had bit my lip a little too hard. 

I nodded in response and folded my arms cold and heavy over my chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his hard gaze. He stepped closer and rubbed his warm hands up and down my arms. 

"You're cold. You should take your medicine and get to bed, Louis, you need to rest, doesn't it hurt?" He asked, all in one breath.

I looked up at him and almost couldn't talk because he just looked so pretty. I had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were until now, his face only inches from mine, spreading his warmth into my body.

"Yeah, I know, and yeah, it does hurt, actually. And I'm just tired, really, I need some sleep," I sounded almost stupid because I had basically slept all day.

He nodded and leaned forward. I thought he was going to kiss me so I began to close my eyes and lean up and get ready to get Onto my tip toes and wrap my arms tightly around his neck- but opened them when I felt his lips on my forehead. 

That wasn't at all what I wanted. 

I wanted him to hold me and caress me and tell me how beautiful I was and then kiss me (on the lips and all over) and then tell me goodnight. 

And after that we could even sleep in the same bed so he could keep holding me and kissing me all night and making love to me. Obviously not now, but, it was a nice thought to have someone like Harry give you that amount of love, all for you, all to yourself.

But he'd just kissed my forehead and stood back with and unsatisfied small smile on his face, said goodnight quietly, then left me to be alone with my twelve bottles of anti inflammatory and pain killers. 

Maybe, just maybe, that small smile had meant he wanted the same thing I did, but just didn't know how to get there.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My body was tired but my head was spinning and racing with thoughts. I wanted to ask Harry something, I missed him and I wanted to talk to him but it was three in the morning and I didn't know if I would sound desperate if I went into his room to do it now.

I slipped out from the soft duvet on the couch Harry'd offered me. The floor was cold and I wasn't wearing anything but boxers and a big t-shirt. 

I padded my way into Harry's bedroom. It didn't feel right sleeping alone and why should I when I could have someone warm and big like Harry to snore softly beside me? 

He was sprawled crazily out on the queen sized bed and I almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous position he was pulling. The light from the moon shone across his face so that I could see each individual eyelash clinging to his cheeks.

I wasn't exactly sure how to go about this, so I just quietly cleared my throat. "Harry," I whispered, almost positive it had done absolutely nothing. "Harry, wake up, please," I tries again, this time prodding a finger gently at his shoulder.

I heard him grunt softly and I knew he was awake. "Harry, I-I can't sleep and I miss you and I want to talk to you and my stomach hurts and I was wondering if I could just-" 

Harry stopped me my shushing me, nodding his head and lifting the corner of the bed sheets to make room for me to climb in. "Yeah, yeah, come on, Louis. You can lay with me," he said, voice lower because he'd been sleeping.

I tucked my body into his side, resting my head in the corner of his shoulder and slid my legs in between his. I felt more at home than ever before. He sighed and I could tell neither of us wanted to close our eyes yet. 

"What's wrong, Lou?" He finally asked. I tried to shrug but it didn't work I was so close to him.

"I don't know, I guess I just wanted to say sorry for being an unappreciative bitch," I said quietly, knowing he was going to yell at me for that.

"What? No, Louis you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who could've save you in the first place," he whispered.

I chuckle out loud. "No you couldn't have, Harry, let's face it."

It was quiet for all but a few minutes and I thought he'd drifted off. I sure hadn't, I was wide awake and my eyes were wide open. He was so warm and I was so cold.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me? You know you can tell me anything," I heard him whisper from behind me, and I gasped, his breath right up against my ear and it was something in his voice- the way he said it- that sounded like he knew I had more to talk about.

I took a deep breath and wracked my brain, looking for ways to word what I wanted to say. 

"I don't like being alone-"

"You're not alone," he interrupted.

"I know, Harry, but not like that," I tried to explain. I turned slightly so I could see his face. I could tell he had wide doe eyes and he looked like he was awaiting further explanation. I pursed my lips and breathed in. "I want to be your boyfriend, Haz," I whispered.

He stared at me for a while and for a second I thought he might lash out and kick me out and then I would be cold and homeless but instead he pushed his lips onto mine, warm and soft, cupping my cheek with his hand and pressing his tongue against my bottom lip.

"I want you to be my boyfriend, too," he mumbled, into my mouth, his warm air hitting all of my face. I loved how his body just smothered me, so big, he was like a blanket and he kept me warms.

"Really?" I asked stupidly.

He pulled away and stared at me for a second, maybe in disbelief, and laughed. "Of course I do, Louis, are you crazy?" 

Yes. Crazy for you.

"Nah, I'm just tired, finally," and I was. Sleep was quickly beginning to rush over me and I just wanted to cuddle up with Harry and let go.

"Okay, well, please sleep, Louis. You know how much you need it,"

"Yeah, yeah, kiss me,"

He did as he was told, leaning over one last time and softly kissing my lips before sinking back into the covers and sighing, wrapping his arms around me in an even tighter embrace.

But, in the back of my mind, a thought lingered. 

He usually leaves right after he realises his own feelings. But he wouldn't leave his own house, would he?


	23. Chapter TwentyTwo

Crushes are called crushes because that's what they do 

I want to be glued at the fingertips to you 

Louis' P.O.V. 

I sighed and fluttered my eyes open. Sun was streaming through the small window in the corner, and I rolled over and closed my eyes again. 

I didn't want to wake Harry. He had held me all night, just like I imagined and I couldn't wait to get up and do stuff because now he was my boyfriend. 

The bed was warm and I reached my hand over, slowly opening my eyes.

But Harry wasn't there.

I sat up quickly and ran my eyes over the large bed. The covers were messy and looked like he just rolled out off bed. It still felt warm so I lifted up the covers and swung my feet over the bed, only to hear a crinkling sound below my feet.

Bending over, I picked up the small piece of white lined paper, scared that maybe it said something like how it was a mistake, saving him was a mistake and everything was a mistake and he was leaving and never coming back.

But instead, it started with My Louis,

I need to get out. But I won't be gone for long. I'm just going to run down to get coffee. I need to think some things through. 

You can make yourself breakfast- there are eggs in the fridge. 

-Harry xoxo

I crumpled the letter in anger and three it on the ground. Fucking every time.

But when he came home I probably wouldn't be angry anymore. That's just how I was, I attached too quickly and never stood up for myself. 

But this was Harry, and maybe I could make an exception. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was sitting on Harry's couch, eyebrows raised and staring at the clock.

9:42

He should be home in four minutes. Not that I was counting or anything. 

He'd texted me that after he'd gotten coffee he stayed out for bit and then just went straight to work (I need to talk some things through with my Duce, 's all, I'll be home right after), and he would be home soon.

I pulled my gaze away from the bright orange light of the digital clack and looked down at my lap. 

Fifteen bottles of meds were nestled there and I was finally going to do it. I'd seen these before and Harry had even mentioned them. And it was time for me to know.

He knew about my problems so I wanted to know his.

I clenched my jaw but my heart sank into the couch as soon as I heard keys jiggling into the lock on the door, then it being turned, and finally the squeak of the door opening and slamming shut.

I took a deep breath and rehearsed what I was going to say to him quickly in my head.

"Hey, Lou, sorry I'm so-" he paused and my stomach fluttered. I could feel him looking over my shoulder and into my lap, at his meds that I'd found snooping earlier that day. "Where did you get those, Louis?" He asked calmly.

I kept staring ahead, not turning to look at him. "Found them in the kitchen cupboard," I answered monotonously.

I heard him swallow and take a jagged breath, could tell he was scrunching up his eyebrows the way he did when he was particularly mad about something. 

"What are you doing with them," he said, sounding slightly more angry than before.

I stood up and turned to face him but kept my stature low and bowed my head slightly. I had to admit that even though he'd said he'd never hurt me he was still intimidating as hell at times.

"Harry, these are anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, anti-fucking everything else you can imagine, but they're all full? If you're depressed or whatever then why aren't you taking them?" I said in my strongest voice, managing to hold all the bottles in both of my hands.

His eyes widened and for a second he looked like Travis used to, right before he would swing. It scared me and I had to hold myself back from actually wincing.

He pursed his lips and I could tell he was really trying hard to not yell at me. "That's none of your business what's wrong with me, Louis, give me those, they're mine," he gritted from in between his teeth and he held out his hand.

A wave of goosebumps ran up my back at his gravelly voice, getting lost in it for a second at how rough it sounded when he was angry.

But that wasn't the point. "Exactly, Haz, and you should be taking them. You can't just ignore it, Harry, you need help," I tried in a softer voice.

He unzipped his jacket and tore it off, throwing it onto the couch beside him and I back up a few inches. "I don't need fucking help, Louis!" He yelled, and I could tell he really lost it. 

The familiar feeling of getting scolded rushed back to me, the feeling of having the person you admire the most scream at you, the feeling of not being comfortable in your own home, and how can I possibly feel this alone in a world full of so many people? It was all rushing back and it felt terrible. 

It was the feeling I was used to having a lot with Travis but I didn't want it now, I could do it now. I felt my arms drop to my sides and the bottles slip out of my hands.

Then suddenly wet drops fell onto my hands that were gripping my shirt in fear staring at Harry, whose eyes were almost red and teeth baring in a growl. His shoulders were haunched and heaving and his fists were balled at his sides. 

I no longer saw Harry, I saw Trav. 

Then from what I could see from behind the blurriness of the tears and my shudders and sobs, his face softened, his breathing calmed and he closed his mouth.

"Louis? Oh my God, I'm so sorry, no, no, I didn't mean to yell at you," he mumbled, stepping closer to me and I let him pull me into his warm chest, so I could hear his heart beat and know it was there.

To make extra sure it was Harry's curly hair instead of course straight hair, Harry's cherry lips in stead of thin pale ones, to make sure it was actually Harry, not Travis.

I sobbed harder than I had in a while, tears soaking through Harry's tight grey tank top. He was shushing me and stroking my back and it only calmed my sobs slightly.

I lifted my head up to look at him, resting my chin on his chest so that my nose just barely reached his mouth.

He kissed it once, twice, then used his fingers to guide my mouth towards his and kissed it, too. He kissed slow and gentle, my lips still quivering and body shaking every so often with hiccups. 

He tilted his head and slipped his tongue into my mouth, bringing his other hand that wasn't under my chin to rest on the back of my neck, cupping it and pulling me closer.

I felt like I was melting, tears still freely falling, settling into the cracks of where our lips met and moved together, making it wet and sloppy. 

I could kiss you for ages 

He pulled away, eyelids droopy and a small smile on his lips. He fluttered his eyelashes across my cheek, picking up some wetness.

"It's just that was a lot like Travis and, and for a second it was like-"

"Don't say it. Don't talk about it. Don't even think about it, Louis, because if you do you won't be able to move on and forget," he told me.

I nodded at him and tugged slightly at his tank top that was crumpled in my small hands. 

I was in one of his big jumpers he had set out for me this morning before he left and a pair of short tight black boxers that weren't even visible the sweater was so big. 

"Please don't leave," a small voice slipped out of the lips before I had time to stop it. 

"Why would I?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

I gave a small shrug and looked somewhere other than his green eyes. I heard him sigh softly.

"You want me to make you some tea?" He asked, voice genuinely calm and sweet like sugar.

I just nodded and he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the kitchen, grabbing a blanket that was slung over a chair and wrapped it around my upper body. 

I hugged it in close to myself, burying my nose in it when he had his back turned and taking a big breath of it because I loved how it smelled like dust, newspaper, cigarettes and just Harry. 

He made us both tea and led me into the bedroom, letting me take the blanket while he climbed into the bed first and propped the pillows up, then motioned for me to sit with him.

I was nestled in his lap, my back flat up against his chest and honey in my tea ('cos it's sweet like you, Lou) and his free arm wrapped around my torso.

"So much to tell you," he said, startling me slightly.

"Hmm?" 

"Don't know where to start, Louis, I do owe you some kind of explanation," he sounded defeated and it made me sad that he was sad. 

I could tell he was really trying. He was trying really hard to let himself fall for me and to open up to me. There must be something holding him back. 

"I don't know, I just get sad a lot, don't really like to talk about it. I've got OCD and anxiety as well. Maybe you could tell," he said quietly, voice cracking and I was so scared he would cry. 

I didn't know what I would do if I saw Harry, who I looked up to, who made me strong when I wasn't, break down his own walls and cry. I didn't want to think about it.

I layer my head back onto his shoulder, a move made to be comforting because I could feel him tensing underneath me. 

My hands were getting hot from holding the mug of tea, the steam floating up into my face whenever I would take a sip.

"'M sorry," I guess that was an appropriate response. I didn't know what else would be.

"No, it's not your fault."

"Why are you.. you know? What about your family?" I asked, hopeful to know more.

He went horribly rigid underneath me.

"That's, that's a different story, for a different day, Louis," he said, voice low.

"Sorry," I whispered but I was almost positive he hadn't heard it.

We sipped our tea in silence for a bit and it was actually pretty comfortable.

I had my head settled back into the crook of his neck, shutting my eyes and realising just how tired I really was.

"Sometimes you make me feel like I'm going crazy," he breathed into my neck, lips hot against my ear.


	24. Chapter TwentyThree

Louis' P.O.V. 

Loving you was easy, thought you'd never leave me

My ears rang from the loud bass in the club. Lights flashed sporadically around my eyes as I ground myself back into Harry's chest and crotch. 

My hands found his and I moved them onto my waist and onto my thighs and all over my abdomen. I wanted his hands to be everywhere at once, but alas that's impossible.

It felt great to let loose and forget about things and I closed my eyes and laid my head back onto his shoulder, entwining my fingers with his.

But I don't wanna live in a world without you

Before we had came, Harry's brought over a bunch of my things from my house, clothes, toiletries, and other things I would be looking for.

He'd also sat me down at the kitchen table and put a garbage bag onto the floor and proceeded to cut off my hair. 

I actually liked it, it was short and refreshing, like cold water and he added some gel in it and slicked it back so it was styled and looked made up. Made me feel special.

"I'll go get you a drink, babe, stay right here," he said into my ear, over the loud music. He kissed my cheek from behind and patted my shoulder before reluctantly peeling my body off of his and heading towards the bar section of the club.

I danced around by myself for a while, waiting for Harry. I brushed my hands over my shirt, trying to make myself look busy. He'd made me try on a bunch of clothes and give him a fashion show before we'd left his house.

("Come on out, Lou, I bet you look gorgeous," he called from the living room. I peeked around the corner of the wall before gliding out into the carpeted room in the tight black ripped jeans he'd picked out. 

I was also wearing a tight white grey t-shirt with some logo on it, Harry'd just picked it out because it was tight and claimed it showed off my curves beautifully. 

I was flattered and never felt so wanted and important when he grinned up at me, eyes raking over my body and focusing on my bum when I turned around, hands stationed on my hips, giving him a 360 view. "Perfect, Louis, you look perfect.")

A warm hand wrapped around my waist from behind me and I melted into the touch, leaning my head back to rest against Harry's broad shoulder. 

"Hey, baby, I like how you move," a voice growled I my ear, but it wasn't Harry's. A hot tongue made it's way up the shell of my ear and I jumped, spinning around to look at the man.

I wanted to scream because the face I saw was all too familiar. The dark brown hair combed into a short quiff, eyes wide with what seemed like constant anger, tall and overpowering me, Travis. 

I felt my feet freeze up and I couldn't move. I tried to get my voice to come out and yell for Harry, but I couldn't and it wouldn't have done any good anyway because the music was so loud. So I just stood there with my mouth open, facing a smirking Travis.

"Who the fuck are you," a voice came from behind me. I recognised it as Harry's without having to turn around and look and I backed up towards it, away from Travis.

"I'm Cas, I'm just having a good time, man," the man said. I blinked a couple of times and really looked at his face. It wasn't Travis? 

I didn't know why I'd seen him before, obviously it wasn't possible for him to even be here but my brain somehow replaced this Cas guy with Travis. 

"Yeah, well, do that with someone else. This one's mine," I heard Harry growl from behind me, moving around me so he was blocking my body from Cas's. 

This one's mine, echoed through my brain and I let my eyes drift shut for a bit.

The man put his hands up in defeat and shook his head, cowering slightly at Harry's tall stature and bulky build. 

"Alright, man, whatever you say," he said, backing up and disappearing into the dark mass of people.

Harry turned back to me and handed me a girly looking drink, I hated to admit it but they were my favourite and Harry knew it. 

"Sorry about that, Louis, the line for drinks was long I should've just came back. Are you alright, you look pale?" He asked, his words seeming to tumble slowly from his lips.

I took a long sip of the drink he got me, almost half of it, letting it slide and burn down my throat before settling heavily in my stomach. 

I nodded and blinked away the tears that were beginning to form I pools I my eyes. Hopefully Harry wouldn't notice with all the flashing lights and lack there of. 

I handed him the drink and watched as he tipped it back, finishing it off in one go before handing it to someone walking around and collecting them. He gripped my waist and pulled me back closer to him, this time facing him.

He let his lips graze around my neck and jaw line, occasionally biting down or licking. I rested my hands around his neck, stroking the skin covered in stubble around the nape of his neck and closed my eyes.

"You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost," he said without stopping to look up at me. 

Not quite

I knew he'd had a little too much to drink but I wasn't complaining. I would drive us home so that's why I'd given him the rest of my drink.

"Yeah, it was nothing," I nodded at him, supporting his side when he swayed one way a little too far. "Why don't we go home, Harry, it's getting late and you're getting pretty tipsy," I yelled to him over the loud music.

He groaned and pulled me closer, rubbing our bodies impossibly tighter together. "Don't want to leave, want to stay here with you."

He grabbed my jaw and forced his mouth onto mine. I swallowed down the strong taste of alcohol in his mouth as he pressed his tongue further into mine. Bringing my hand around to the back of his neck, I detached our lips with a smack, leaning my forehead against his.

"I'll come with you, I just want to get home safely," I told him, separating us slightly so I could grab his hand and pull him out of the crowd.

I was hoping the cold night air would sober him up but he still stumbled along beside me, grabbing my shoulder once in a while for support.

The drive home went fast and soon I was pulling him out of the passenger seat of the car and leading him to his door. 

We stepped in and I didn't even get the chance to talk or even shut he door before his hands were all over me, touching, petting, exploring.

I moaned and tipped my head back when he pressed me into the wall, pushing his hips to meet mine and I felt a twitch in my pants.

He nipped along my ear and neck, just bitebitebite all over until I bought my jeans would burst with how hard I was.

My breaths came ragged and I felt him shrug off his and my jacket, tossing them onto the couch beside us, before reconnecting our lips.

"Jump, baby," he breathed into my neck.

I did as told and felt his arms catch me, legs wrapped around his waist and arms tightly around his neck. 

He stumbled into the hallway, a voice in the back of my head screaming don't do this don't do this you'll regret it later don't do it you don't want it- but I did want it and I wanted it bad.

I wanted his hands all over my body, taking through my hair and rubbing up my legs. I wanted his lips to trail up and down my stomach, to open and form words telling me how beautiful I was.

I got everything I wanted and more. I got to feel every single individual muscle in his back move when he pushed our hips together. To feel the heat radiating from both of our bodies. 

How full I felt with him inside me, like I could fit no more. My legs wrapped around his waist and ankles locked him in place, bringing him impossibly closer.

His bite marks on my skin, my nails down his back. Pain quickly replaced pleasure as he draped his body over mine, the alcohol in his breath reminding me of the small voice in my head.

But I was too caught up in the moment. I wasn't ready to let go and make it stop because it felt too good.

"So pretty, so pretty, so pretty, so pretty," he chanted under his breath, voice raw from moaning, in time with his thrusts, pushing my body up and up and up the bed until my head was against the headboard and I had to sneak a pillow behind it so I wouldn't get a bruise.

I came all over my stomach after he'd shoved his tongue into my throat, speeding up his movements, hips getting shaky and I could tell he was so close, too.

He sputtered a jumble of incoherent words out of his mouth, drunkenly closing his eyes at the feeling of his climax, placing kisses all over my face and neck, wiping the sweat off my forehead with his thumb.

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? The voice said and I furrowed my eyebrows, laying back and taking a deep breath once Harry'd rolled over and started to snore immediately, wincing at the sticky feeling in between my legs.


	25. Chapter TwentyFour

Louis' P.O.V. 

I laid in bed for over two hours scared to move because I didn't want to wake Harry. 

He was going to wake up anyway, Louis, might as well do it sooner rather than later, I told myself. 

That was a lie, I would rather wait.

I chewed on my bottom lip and looked over at the digital clock. It was an hour after noon and Harry was still snoring beside me. 

He looked dreadfully beautiful, duvet only covering up half of his cute little bum, laying on his stomach and head turned away from me, lightly resting on one of his arms while the other sprawled off the side of the bed.

I was scared he'd be furious. I was terrified he'd yell and hit me because I took advantage of him at that kind of state where I should've known not to be so damn stupid, god dammit, Louis! 

I was so scared he would slam the door on my face and never want to hear my name or see my face ever again.

I laid there and worked myself up, chewing on the inside of my cheek until it bled and still not knowing if I should wake Harry up now or just let him get up on his own because it was getting late. 

"Hey, Boo," a voice from beside me startled me, making me sit up immediately and blink at Harry, thinking to myself, this is it, he's gonna hate you. 

I watched his sleepy squinty eyes fall over my body, I was self conscious and slighting wincing, preparing myself for the impact of Harry's pent up anger. He was just starting off nicely, surely he would burst and starts screaming any second.

"Why aren't you wearing clothes, were you too hot sleeping last night?" He asked and I looked down, saw my own dick and covered it up quickly, swearing under my breath. I felt my cheeks burn up and heard him chuckle.

I watched, biting my tongue, as he turned his body, swinging his legs off his side of the bed and finally threw he covers off of his body.

I could see his jaw drop open from where I was behind him.

"Listen, Harry, before you get really upset-"

"Louis, what happened last night? Why am I not wearing boxers, I always sleep I boxers," he asked in one breath, turning towards me.

I cowered down slightly and brought my legs up towards my chest, a position I got used to doing a lot of living with Trav.

"Oh my god, did-"

He cut himself off, grabbing fists of his hair and yanking his head down. I'd never seen him so angry before. 

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that, I'm really sorry," I tried to calm him,talk to him, something because he was running around the bedroom, crackling his knuckles and scaring me.

"No, no, no, no, no," he chanted, "it was not supposed to be like that, Louis. It was supposed to be so fucking special and I was going to do the rose pedal shit and then I got drunk and fucking ruined it! I fucking hate myself," He yelled at himself, searching through his drawers, finding a new pair of boxers and pulling them on.

I swallowed back the hard lump in my throat, silently willing myself to be strong and not cry. It will be okay, Harry's going to be okay, he just needs to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Louis, I know I leave a lot-"

"Fucking hell you do," I interrupted, suddenly getting mad at the idea that he was really about to leave me? Was I just some one night stand to him? 

Maybe he didn't yet realise it but I made love to him.

"I know and I'm sorry, I wish I could stop but I can't, Louis," he groaned, pulling in jeans and I shirt. It wasn't fair, I wanted to know where he was going and what he was doing and why he always came home hammered out of his mind.

"Harry," I warned, sitting up straighter in his bed and pulling the covers up to cover myself more.

"Louis. I told you, I'm so sorry. But this was my fault and I really can't deal with it now," he said right at me, pleading me with his eyes. "I have to go to work today anyway, so just think of it as me leaving a bit early, only a couple hours and I can't say it enough, I'm sorry, I just can't look at you right now," and he sped out of the bedroom door.

"Only a couple hours? Are you kidding me, you're being ridiculous," I called after him, hoping he heard.

I stared in awe and anger and despair and so much that my eyes started to water. I felt my face drop and my lips twitch, my back slumping and my eyebrows furrowed.

"But I made love to you," I whispered.

The front door slammed shut, ringing throughout the house.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Harry was back, I was pacing through the house, pinching my lower arms because somehow it made me feel calmer.

I shouldn't have to live constantly in fear. First it was Travis and now I was scared for Harry. I just wanted a normal, committed, honest relationship with a guy. 

I looked down at my forearms, red blotches scattered up them and my knuckles were actually starting to hurt so I figured I should stop. I walked to the fridge and grabbed an ice cube out of the freezer, popping it in my mouth and crunching it. 

It was something I'd seen Travis do many times, red faced, right before he would rub his temples and try not to scream.

I bit my lip as soon as I heard the door close. It was even later than I thought he would come home and I was past being angry, I was just scared he would hurt me if he was too drunk.

"I'd never hurt you, babe," he said from behind me, seeming to read my thoughts.

Or maybe I'd said them aloud

I spun around, leaning against the counter in the kitchen and trying my hardest to keep the tears inside my eyes. It hurt me to see Harry hurting and that was just an endless cycle I wasn't willing to get myself into.

His eyes scanned my arms and I watched as his lips parted. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No," I brushed it aside. I was not important right now.

His eyes were rimmed with red and he was sweaty and gross looking and I could smell alcohol on him from where I was standing. 

"Harry, you seriously need to knock this off," I said, falsely confident.

"I'd never hit you, Louis. You know that, right? I saved you, I'd never hurt you," he said ignoring my statement.

"It's getting ridiculous. You need to start taking your meds and I can call someone if you don't want to talk to me," I suggested but it seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

He ran a hand through his greasy hair, scrunching his face up like he was in pain. I could imagine he was, though.

"It's just, like, as if you weren't fucked up enough already," he spat out, balling his hands on the counter top and looking up at me.

"Harry, it's okay, I told you. It's not your fault you didn't-"

"Yes it is! It's always been my fault. I always do this," his voice was tight in his throat, cracking often, "I've tried to stop but I can't, Louis. I learned to live with it, then I started to want it and now I fucking need it".

I blinked. "Need what, Haz?"

He groaned and walked across the room, swaying ever so slightly and hitting his shoulder on and open door when he went by it. "Shit," he cursed under his breath, holding his shoulder for a second before turning back to face me, a couple tears rolling down his pale cheeks and it hit me then that I'd never seen him really cry.

"That way you feel when someone touches you," he seemed to freeze and just stare at me, like he was recalling old memories then just telling them to me, no filter, "that love, it's the only love you ever feel. What we did last night, that's the feeling, my daddy gave me that feeling," he said quietly and my eyes widened. He was talking about last night, what we'd done in bed, with his dad. 

He took a couple steps forward so I could see his lip quiver. My heart picked up pace and I didn't know what to say. My mouth was open but nothing came out.

"And now I need it, Louis, I would die to feel it again," he said, shaking his head. For a second I thought that maybe he sobered up but hen I saw how his eyes sort of wandered, not really fixating on a certain thing. The room was probably spinning for him, but he wouldn't make something like this up, would he?

"Harry.." I croaked, face burning up and stomach churning. 

"Please love me, Louis. Please, please, I need it. Cause I don't know where my daddy is to give it to me," he rubbed his eyes. He looked like a little boy. Like the little boy his father took into his arms and raped. I was disgusted, horrified but there was nothing I could do now, it was already done.

He was so close to me now, dragging his finger along the side of my cheek, pressing to my lips. His eyes were hooded and I wanted to take care of him, tell him that it was alright and that he wasn't doing it wrong. 

"Please, Louis,"

All this time I knew he wasn't right, but I never would've expected something so twisted and wrong like this.

I couldn't make my mouth say anything so I just took him in my arms, all six feet of him and stood on my tiptoes to put my chin on his shoulder and rub his shaking back.


	26. Chapter TwentyFive

Louis' P.O.V.

"Hi,"

"Hey, Styles," I looked up at Harry's red lips, resting my chin on his chest, something I found myself doing a lot of lately.

He smiled, wide green eyes lighting up so pretty so I pecked his lips. 

He hummed and pulled me back, kissing me softly and tracing his fingers along the back of my neck, rubbing his other hand up and down my side.   
He was warm, he felt like home.

We kissed slowly in his bathroom, pressing me tight up against the door like I might blow away if he didn't. 

He placed his hands down to my waist, detaching his lips from mine and reattaching them to my neck, fingers fumbling with the hem of my shirt.

He wasn't rushing, nothing was sexual and that was perfect. Just harmless kissing between two people.

"Get this off," he mumbled and pulled away, curling his fingers around the bottom of my shirt and pulled it gently over my head, throwing it in the bathroom floor.

"You're charming when you're eager," I laughed and watched as he glared at me for a second before breaking and grinning.

This was the Harry I loved to see, the smiling and happy one.

He threw off his shirt slipped out of his sweatpants as I did the same, before grabbing my waist and pressing our bests tight together, nudging his nose against mine.

He nuzzled my cheek and eyes, and weird but also extremely cute way, and peppered butterfly kisses around my face, bending his neck to reach me because I was significantly shorter.

His tongue swiped across my bottom lip, reconnecting us once again and I felt him bend over and reach to turn on the water in the tub, pulling up the plug to make it come out of the shower head.

He sucked and nibbled and bit all over my lips, face, and neck, so when I looked in the mirror I thought I'd gotten chicken pox.

His breath rolled hot and slow over my face, smelling of the warm hot chocolate we'd shared right before he'd gotten the brilliant idea of showering together.

This was the Harry that I could also see protecting me and loving me until the day I died. His touches were always soft and gentle like I was made of China.

"You look beautiful, like always, boo," he spoke lowly once he'd pulled away and I watched him swipe his tongue over his lips, glistening with my spit.

That was my saliva, my kisses he was receiving, mine.

I blushed under his gaze, letting to of him and slipping my thumbs under the waistband of my boxers, sliding them down my legs and stepping out of them. Harry did the same, grabbed my hand, then pulled the black shower curtain back.

He motioned for me to go in first, bowing his head and smirking at me. I laughed, but carefully stepped in anyway.

"Dork," I said under my breath.

His entire shower was black, the tiles lining it, the floor, even the shower head and curtains and non slip mat were black. It gave the small area a warm, intimate feel and I loved it.

Harry turned me around to face him and grabbed the shower head, running it over my hair line and down my back. The water steamed up to the ceiling, forming drops the slid down the walls.

I sighed, collapsing onto Harry, letting his fingers run through my scalp, rubbing at my body with soap and shampoo.

I closed my eyes and let him rinse the soap off, tipping my head back. His lips were on mine as soon as the shower head was back in place, smothering my already hot body with warmth. 

His hands ran down my back, squeezing and rubbing his thumbs I circles on my hips. 

I pulled away, our lips making a smacking sound.

"Maybe....maybe you should go see him," I said quietly, almost hoping he hadn't heard.

His eyes traced my face, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes and rolling down his cheeks. "What do you mean, Louis?"

"I think it would maybe help you forget and move on if you went and visited your dad," I whispered, just that and the sound of the water splashing and going down the drain was the only thing to hear in the room.

Harry was silent, black wet hair slipping in front of his face so close to mine, dangling in front of his eyes and for a moment I could swear he was crying, but it was probably just the fact that we were showering.

At first he looked like he was going to get mad, but then his face softened, more sympathetic as he looked at me and nodded.

"Yeah, maybe you're right,"

"I could drive you there- I mean if you even want me to come, I mean I don't have to go if you don't want me to-"

"No, no, I want you to go, please come with me, okay?" He reassured me, rubbing his thumb up and down the side of my cheek and staring down into my eyes.

I nodded. "Yeah, course, Harry. Whatever you need," I murmured, burying my face back into the crook of his neck and shoulder, his arms wrapping back around my waist.

I felt him press a kiss to my temple before resting his chin on my head.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry's P.O.V. 

He was addictive. 

He was my heroin, my cocaine, my nicotine. His lips were sweet and bitter like cigars, his skin was smooth and silky like wine. 

He was my drug.

His hands ran down my back, rubbing cool lotion into my hot skin.

His body drifted up and down from the lifting of my breaths, the weight of his body pressing down on my lower back.

I groaned when his knuckles pressed firmly against a firm spot on my back, wincing against the soft bed covers.

"Sorry," 

"'S fine," I replied quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. "When did you learn how to give massages?"

I heard his sigh and shift his weight on my back, angling his hands differently.

"Travis used to- I would get, just, my back would get sore a lot. He'd give me massages and I guess I just picked it up from him," he answered stuttering and tripping over his words and I felt like he was leaving out a lot of information.

"Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have brought that up," I said guiltily. I let my eyes drift shut.

I heard him laugh, more of a raw chuckle, the kind of sound you made right before you burst into uncontrollable tears. "It's okay, Harry. Are you feeling alright now?"

"Yeah, actually. Really tired, too," I mumbled unto the covers. I would be happy to just stay there and sleep.

He hummed in response. "Good. Me, too."

The lotion bottle snapped closed, loud in the room without much else to hear. Louis climbed off my back and lifted the duvet, sliding under and snuggled his back up to me. 

He reached his tanned arm out and switched off the small light by my bedside, tucking his arm back into his side and sighing softly.

I knew what he wanted so I turned onto my side to face him, pushing my nose into his still damp hair and tossing my arm over his small waist.

"Have you had any more nightmares recently?" I thought out loud. It was only the one that I could recall and I hoped he didn't have any more because it seemed to have been pretty traumatising.

"No, and I hope I don't have another one," he answered, sounding so dazed and sleepy that I just didn't answer. I let him sleep.


	27. Chapter TwentySix

You make me want to wander the streets at night in a black coat with a cigarette.

Louis' P.O.V. 

Ever since I came here I've felt like I've been dripping with guilt. Harry was treating me so well and I didn't really do anything to help.

So when I noticed the bathroom looked like it needed a good wipe down (the shower walls getting coated in a thin layer of soap scum and the sink and mirror had splashes of water all over them) I didn't hesitate to wander around looking for cleaning supplies.

I found some and wandered back into the bathroom, Harry would be home in about an hour. I'd been feeling a lot like a stay-at-home mom the past couple of weeks. Harry would leave for his job a couple nights a week and I'd be trying to keep myself busy.

However I felt my phone buzz in my pocket after I bent down to set the bottles of cleaning soaps and disinfectants on the bathroom floor, clearing room on the sink to set the towels.

I'll be home early babe :) Read the text from Harry.

Great, Harry would be here which meant he would chew me out for trying to be a help. He'd insisted that I still rest as my stomach wasn't all the way healed but God forbid I actually get up and walk around and do some minor cleaning. 

I rushed myself, pulling the water on in the tub and lifting the plug so it filled with hot water because of course, with my luck, the cleaning soaps were all frozen solid because they'd been out in Harry's garage, subjected openly to the turning weather, for who knows how long. 

After it was as full as it would go, I set the cold bottles in and turned around grabbing a paper towel to start maybe wiping down the sink.

I heard the front door open and slam closed and my heart jumped, partially from being startled and partially from excitement that Harry was back. 

"Hey, Harry, I'm in the bathroom," I called out of the open door.

There was no response besides the clomping of his heavy boots so I just supposed he had his head phones in and his music up loud.

I went back to cleaning.

Warm hands gathered at my mid back, surprising me slightly but I soon leaned into the touch. It was so achingly familiar and I sighed, setting the tools down on the floor. 

I stood up but Harry didn't let me turn around, instead, grazing his lips along the nape of my neck, hot breath ghosting over it and making my eyes flutter shut. 

"Welcome home," I giggled, but then noticed something funny. He smelled different.

"Did you get a different cologne, Haz? I asked, my eyes still closed out of relaxation.

Shivers rolled down my spine when I felt his tongue sweep up the shell of my ear, my mouth gaping slightly and my breath quickening.

"No," fear cripple my brain when I realised the deep voice wasn't Harry's, and turned around sharply to face it, breath coming fast and uneven.

"Travis, g-get away from me!" I stammered. I gripped the sink behind me and tried to stand up but he was blocking me from doing anything, bulky arms wrapped around me to the sink to form a cage.

He just smirked and winked, making me want to throw up. Was it happening again? It couldn't be, it seemed too real to be a dream. 

I could feel his hands grip at my wrists, twisting them and pulling them behind my back. 

"Why would I, gorgeous?" He said into my ear, tongue snaking out and sliding up the side. I swallowed hard and tried to steady my breath. Maybe Harry would actually come home soon and rescue me. 

After all, he did sometimes call me his princess, he was my knight, and this was the perfect time for him to show up in his shining armour.

"Please, Trav, leave me alone," I gasped.

"Never," he hissed, "What did it tell you, louis?"

I let out a shriek of pain when his hands yanked my arms behind my back further, straining my shoulders. I knew either way if I struggled he would only pull harder.

"Please, Travis, you're hurting me," I begged, tears falling from my eyes as I racked my brain for things to do. But I couldn't do /anything/ because Harry wasn't home.

"Wrong! I said, if I can't have you," he gritted through his teeth, pushing me closer to the bathtub deep full of hot water, "then no one fucking can!" 

My face splashed in the water and I felt his elbow dig into my back, forcing me to stay there. The tub was too deep and Travis was too strong.

Water flowed up my nose and I tried not to cough and sputter because that'd only make it worse but I couldn't help it. I could hear him chuckling above the surface, low gurgles of gross sounding laughs, spewing out of his mouth. 

My arms ached, my head ached, my stomach ached, my lungs ached, my heart ached everything just hurthurthurt and where was Harry?

I gave up.

I stopped trying to win, trying to fight, and I let my body go lax. Travis won. He got his way like he always did.

I felt my eyes cross, go into the back of my head until I couldn't see the hazy clear-blue of the soapy bath water anymore. My lips parted and it then occurred to me that, yes, I wanted to die.

It was okay to leave now because anything was better than here, where people only wanted to hurt others.  
~~~~~~~~~~~

When I woke up I thought that maybe it wasn't actually a dream because my face was wet, soaked. Then I realized it wasn't water, but tears, and I wasn't in the bathroom with Travis, but Harry's room laying in bed with Harry.

I sat up, trying to slow and quiet sobs so I wouldn't wake him. I took a couple deep breaths, shaky, but better than nothing..

"Louis, what happened? Are you-oh god, Lou," Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around my torso, pulling me back onto him so my back was pressed to his front.

It only made me sob harder, the baby I was, and grip at his chest and rub my face in it because a second ago I couldn't, I was drowning and Harry wouldn't come home.

"I-I'm sorry," I gasped, finding it extremely hard to form the words when shudders wouldn't stop rolling my body, "It-it's a-all my f-fault, Har-ry."

"What? No, stop talking like that, it's ridiculous," he soothed, shushing me and kissing my temple over and over again, moving down to my jaw and neck. I never wanted him to stop I could lay here and he could kiss me forever and I'd be the happiest man alive.

"Just a dream, Lou, just a dream," he talked, voice low and thick with sleep and I already felt bad for waking him up.

"It's just, I never really got to say goodbye. I just left because it was getting really bad," I thought aloud.

"You did the right thing. If I ever hurt you, which would never happen," he kissed the wetness on my cheek, "you would have every single right to walk out and never come back. Take care of yourself. But let's not talk about that because it would never happen."

"You'd never hurt me? Not even a little bit like if you were angry?" 

"Never, Louis, and that's final. Go back to sleep, princess," he combed his hand through my hair while I noted the nickname.

I nodded and licked my dry, cracked lips.

"Yeah, alright, goodnight, Harry."

This rickety house was alright. Harry was more than I could ever ask for I found myself staying up late thinking about it. 

This wasn't just a rickety old house, this was a castle, spirals shooting from the top in pinks and whites, Harry was and always would be my knight in shining amour, trudging through even the darkest of times to help me. 

And me? I was his princess.


	28. Chapter TwentySeven

You're the blood in my veins   
You're the sound when it rains  
You're the sun that seeps in through my window

Harry's P.O.V.

Just as Louis had suggested a few days ago, we planned to take a drive to visit my dad.

I was scared, mainly, nervously gripping the wheel and resorting to turning up the music so loud that I couldn't hear Louis when he tried to tell me something.

I reached for the knob and turned it down, taking a breath. 

"I said, are you alright, Harry?" He asked. I could see him out of the corner of my eyes, slightly slouched, turned towards me with a leg bent up on the seat, raking his hand through his hair.

It seemed like it was already getting longer but we'd just cut it.

"What? Yeah, yeah, 'm good, good," I nodded and kept glancing back an forth between him and the road. 

I reached back for the volume and turned it up.

Home, let me come home

I saw him sigh and turn his head to look back out the window. I thought he was looking exceptionally beautiful today. He always looked nice (I preferred the look he got as soon as he woke up, in need of a shave and having bad morning breath, I didn't care, he was so beautiful that way) and I wondered how he did it sometimes, just waking up so flawless.

But instead of lighting up like a sunshine when I'd tell him, in the middle of something random, like watching tv and I'd look over at him and it would strike me how pretty he looked, he would blush and look down, chew on his lip and not look at me.

Home is wherever I'm with you

"It'll be fine, Haz," Louis said from beside me, after a long pause in our conversation. 

"But what if it isn't? Huh, let's see, you've never met my dad. I have, Louis, that's where we're different," I said, angrily gripping the steering wheel and pressing a little hard on the gas.

I refused to look at him because I knew he hated it when I yelled at him and I could tell his eyebrows would be furrowed on his forehead and his lips would be pouted in the little thing he does when he's upset. 

"I wasn't implyi-"

"It doesn't fucking matter, Louis!" I blasted out, shaking the wheel in my tight grip slightly. 

I glared out the front window and slammed on the breaks when I realised there was a red light, letting my head fall back on the head rest. 

"You don't know what I went through, you don't know why this isn't easy for me," I said, a lot quieter and voice rough because my throat was clogged tight with that feeling you get right before you burst into tears.

I saw him nod slightly out of the corner of my eye and then I looked at him, saw the glassiness of fresh tears in his eyes and his hand up to his mouth, chewing quietly on his nails.

The guilt flooded over me and I quickly tried to erase what I said. 

"No, Louis, I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. I'm just really anxious and I'm an idiot for taking it out on you," I said in a lower voice, watching him from the corner of my eye.

"You've got every right to be anxious. But," he hesitated, "don't feel like you have to do this, we can always just turn around and go back home," he said, voice knowing.

My hands relaxed on the wheel and I let one slip into my lap. "I know, I just can't picture myself walking in there and just talking with him, you know?" I glanced over at him, happy to see his whole body turned towards me in the seat again.

He didn't say anything and I actually thought he'd fallen asleep (he'd slept so much after his recent nightmare and he'd been so tired and just exhausted lately I was beginning to worry). 

"I just get in those moods, you know what I'm talking about, where, I just-" he seemed to not be able to form questions and I turned to look at him when I pressed on the breaks at a stop light, "if you weren't driving I'd climb over this dumb consul and fucking hug you," he said with a pout, glaring at the space between the two front seats. 

I smiled and laughed lightly at how cute he was being.

I pressed sharply on the gas when I realised we'd been holding people up at the green light. I didn't know if I should keep driving or if I should do a U turn and just go back home.

My nerves hadn't dissolved in our conversation and I was becoming more and more nervous by the second and my hands sweated and my heart was racing but we weren't even halfway there and I felt like I was about to go into cardiac arrest-

"Harry!"

"What?" I gasped, breathing heavily.

"You're going eighty miles an hour on a forty mile an hour road, slow down," he told me and my eyes widened as my foot shoved down on the breaks, sharply turning the car to the side of the road and pulling out the key, tossing it onto the floor. 

I rubbed my hands up and down my face, feeling that familiar ache in the throat creeping up but I felt like I was too tired of everything to even cry.

"I can't do this, I can't, I can't, Louis, I'm sorry, but we'll have to schedule another time to go because I just cannot do it right now," I said, on the verge of breaking down, my voice wobbling erratically.

"And that's okay, Haz, I told you if you didn't think you could do it then don't. You're doing the right thing," he reassured. 

"Sure as hell doesn't feel like it," I groaned, letting my head fall onto my hands that were braced across the top of the steering wheel.

Louis' hand found it's way on my back, drawing circles with his thumb and rubbing patterns with his palm for what seemed like ages.

I think Louis understood to some level how I felt in this. He knew what it feels like to feel love and know love like your own brother. 

He felt the stabbing pain of betrayal when the person you love most can't seem to love you more, he knows what that feels like. 

The feeling when the only kind of love you receive is the grip of the sheets, tugging at your hair, screaming into pillows that it hurts. 

Was it the sex? Or was it just the pain of knowing that that was the only kind of love I'd ever receive?

I think he knew to some degree how I felt now, once smiling and waiting in bed for my father to come and "tuck me in" each night, I didn't know better, I thought that's what every little boy did with his daddy. 

And now I was in my shit old car on the side of the highway crying because I was too scared to feel that love again, now that I knew it was wrong. 

That's why I'm so good at my job. I can easily shut down my feelings and emotions and just go with it because that's how I learned to live day to day.

Louis knew that by pushing everyone far, far away, I was just bringing him closer.


	29. Chapter TwentyEight

Louis' P.O.V.

It's annoying, the harsh shriek of the tea pot ringing throughout Harry's house. I ran into the kitchen from the other room and shut off the stove, pouring it into two mugs with tea bags in them.

The steam floated up into my face and I stood there, stirring the two teas. Harry liked his black. Black with no sugar or milk, just black. 

He said it was pure like that and to put sugar in it or milk just took away all of its innocence. Harry was just weird like that sometimes.

I shrugged to myself and dropped two sugars into mine and picked the up by the handles, carefully carrying them into the living room.

Harry had crashed on the couch there a few hours ago after we'd turned around the car and drove home. 

He had stormed into the house, mumbling something under his breath about how he's such a fuck up and I wanted to help him or comfort him but I just couldn't. 

Nothing I could do would make him feel any better about this because I can't ever fully understand where he's coming from. That's the part that makes my stomach hurts so much I can't eat.

But after he threw a fit, he'd laid down and slept, which I thought was probably the best thing he could do since he was angry. It was something I used to do to pass time and get away from Travis.

I set the two cups of tea on the table beside the couch Harry was stretched out on. 

The pile of my stuff he'd brought over from my house for me was covering the entirety of the other small sofa so I stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, hearing Harry's breath quicken occasionally. 

"Harry," I whispered, kneeling down so I was face to face with him. Hopefully when he woke up he'd be in a better mood. "Haz, love, wake up. You're going to mess up you sleep schedule if you don't get up soon," I warned him because I knew he had a habit of staying up really late but then being tired the next day at his work.

He grunted, his thick eyebrows furrowing towards each other, and blinked open his eyes. "'M tired," he mumbled.

"I know, Harry. I made us some tea, if you sit up I can cuddle with you while we drink our tea," I taunted. I knew he had the softest spot for cuddles and hot tea, and even more with me.

I watched him close his eyes again and lick his dry lips wet from my position on the floor, my head resting on my arms that were folded along the edge of the couch.

He sighed, his nose flaring slightly, in a cute way, and opened his eyes up again, sitting up from his sleepy position on the couch and running a hand through his bed head.

I gave him a small smile, reaching behind me for his tea, the black, unsweetened tea I'd made just minutes ago.

I carefully handed it to him, slipping up onto the couch next to him and grabbing my own warm mug, cradling it in my hands.

I turned and looked at him, watching him with a smile, staring at his sleepy features, squinty eyes, soft red lips, and milky skin. 

I moved my body closer to his, leaning back on the couch and into the crook of his arm.

He shifted awkwardly, body visibly and obviously stiff and uncomfortable. He wasn't looking at me, either so I decided to ask. 

"What's wrong, Haz," I asked in the softest tone I could manage.

"Sorry, Lou, I'm just not in the mood," he said, I frowned, blinked, and sat up.

"Okay, um, I'll just go somewhere else, then," I said thickly, hating to leave Harry at a time when he needed to be comforted. But if he didn't want my comfort, he didn't have to get it. I wasn't about to push him for a little bit of snuggling time.

"No, I didn't-I mean, you can stay if you want, I'm just still a bit upset, 's all," he stumbled over his words. I knew he didn't want to hurt my feelings by pushing me away, but I understood, he didn't want me around and then I started to feel really clingy.

Was I becoming that clingy boy who always had to be attached at the arm to his boyfriend because he wasn't strong enough to do anything else on his own? That was the last thing I wanted to be.

I walked across the room towards the kitchen, thinking maybe I'd just clean it up for a bit and let Harry relax. Maybe waking him up was a bad idea even though he'd be cranky tomorrow if I hadn't.

"Well, for fuck's same, Louis, are you joking?" I heard him about across the room.

I gasped in air, swallowing it hard and turning around quickly. My heart thudded from the anger dripping from his voice.

"What?" My lips quivered, the word barely escaping them. I watched as Harry stood up off of the sofa, knuckles white and gripping the mug I thought it'd break.

"You always want me to fucking pity you, don't you, Louis? No, I see it, you just love to get attention, right?" I shook my head, hands shaking and sweating, watching as Harry crept closer with that look on his face that I'd never seen before.

It was familiar, like I had seen it before, just not on him. And that made me want to be sick.

"Admit it, you gluttonous bastard, you want to be spoilt rotten, you want all the pity you can get. Cause you're just this broken little boy, huh? But have you even thought that maybe, just maybe I have my own problems, too?" He hissed. This had to be a dream, I thought to myself. 

It had to be one of those reoccurring things I'd been having where it starts out as Harry but ends up being Travis.

I pinched my forearms, chest heaving and I felt my heels click.  
They pressed against the wall behind me, leaving me to just stare at Harry who was no more than a few feet away from me.

But I wasn't waking up, I had to fucking wake up because Harry always says how much he hates yelling at me and he'd never hurt me. He always told me how humble I was and how he'd take care of everything, I wasn't a gluttonous bastard, at least I didn't think I was.

"Harry, please, you're scaring me," I whimpered, pitifully, but it was the best I could do with my back pushed against the cold wall, arms and hands curled around my chest.

"Didn't you ever think how good you have it? Did your dad ever fuck you like mine did?" He spat at my face, inches from me. His words racked around in my brain, twisted and sinister. 

No, I would never wish what Harry'd grown up with on my worst enemy, but I could also never fully understand what he went through. 

I shook my head, the chilly air of the flat making my wet cheeks tingle. "No, Harry, I'm sorry, really!" 

He whipped his hands up to grip my shoulders, dropping the ceramic mug in the process, which shattered right beside my feet.

I choked on my sobs, feeling my body hiccup with each one that shot up my throat. I didn't want to look him in the eyes but it was hard not to. They were shiny bright green, pupils almost non existent with fury. 

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it!" He growled through gritted teeth, hands getting impossibly tight on my shoulders and pulling my body away from the wall only to slam it back, making me whimper and a loud bang reverberated through his flat from the impact of my body.

I heard a picture fall from another hallway, but didn't dare open my eyes. I stayed in the haunched position I was in, shielding him from my face but as soon as he pain in my back was starting to go down, the grip on my shoulders relaxed.

I peeked out from beneath my arms and hands, looked at Harry as his hands dropped down to his sides, smacking against his grey track pants. His face had morphed back to somewhat normal, eyes his regular emerald green colour, but his face looked something like defeat.

"Oh my, oh my God, Louis," he breathed quietly. His eyes scanned my body then looked around the room as if he was wondering what the hell he'd just done.

It was like he was in some sort of trance and he'd just snapped out of it, back to his normal self, to the Harry that adored me and treasured me. I knew that the Harry who had just hurt me wasn't the real one, but that didn't mean it had been okay.

I managed to stand up straighter, but I kept my arms at my front, ready to protect my face and head if I had to again. It was something I'd learned while I was still with Travis.

"Holy shit," he said, barely a whisper, with his lips parted. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me.

I flinched away when I saw his hand reach out for my shoulder where it had previously gripped so hard I was sure there were purple bruises. 

"No, no, no, Louis, I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "Oh, I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up," he chanted, turning away from me and pulling at his own hair.

And that was it. He'd done it. He'd pushed me into the wall because he was mad. It was just like Travis. I was suddenly boiling with a newfound anger in my chest. Why couldn't I find a boyfriend that was normal?

I nodded, agreeing with him. "Yeah, Harry, you did," I said, voice weak from crying. I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped out from the wall, standing up on my own.

"I told you I'd never hurt you," he said and turned around to face me, face contorted with guilt and sadness, "but I just did, didn't I?" 

I nodded and then I noticed the dark purple circles under his eyes, how pale he was and then I really regretted waking him up. I knew he wasn't okay, I knew he didn't take his medications when he should but none of that could even make what he just did okay. It would never be okay to break a promise.

Maybe it was different with Travis because I was used to it, used to being used and treated like dog shit but not with Harry. He felt like home, at least he did.

I nodded, again agreeing with him. I took a few steps back from his frame, just for safe measures.

"Louis, I didn't mean any of that. Please, just, come here, give me a hug," but no, I've heard that phrase too many times. Give me a big so you forgive me and so I can beat you again and you'll never tell a soul, I battled in my brain.

"No, Harry. I can't. I need to leave because I no longer feel welcome here," I told him, voice quivering. Of course I didn't want to leave, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

I forced myself to ignore the throbbing pain in my back and shoulders.

"What? Louis, no, you can just leave, where would you stay? And-and you're still injured, I won't let you go, please, I'm sorry," he begged. 

I shook my head. "I can't, Harry, I told you. I don't know where I'll go but I'll take my meds and I'll leave, I'm fine," I said, walking passed him and into the kitchen to grab them. I shoved them into a bag and trudged towards the door, grabbing my coat that was slung over the couch.

"Please, Louis, if you leave, I don't know what I'll do, I can't live without my princess," he said, voice tight and I could tell without even looking at him that he was on the verge of tears.

I turned around at the door, keeping my hands around the knob. "Please don't call me that anymore. And you know that I would never wish what happened to you on anybody and I'm sorry but I can't stay here. Just stay safe, Harry," I said, working against every voice in my head screaming at me to give in and stay, that I was just overreacting and it was okay.

"But I didn't mean it, Lou, I swear, please," he begged, stepping forward but not before I opened the door and forced myself to go out of it. I didn't want him to see me ugly cry.

"It doesn't matter," I replied, slamming the door behind me.


	30. Chapter TwentyNine

His palms sweated more as he tried to decide whether or not to call Louis, thumbs wiping up and down the screen of his own phone. 

Maybe Louis didn't even have it with him, though he couldn't find it in the house after two hours of searching.

It was then past midnight and even though Harry was used to staying up late for his job, he felt tired and his legs were aching from the constant pacing back and forth across his kitchen, hands weaving through his hair.

His bottom lip was bitten raw, the sharp taste of blood still lingering in hi moth, and he finally thought he would at least try.

He unlocked his phone with shaky fingers, opened his contacts and remembered the first time he'd gotten Louis' number. 

Harry'd given him a ride home because he bought it was just absolutely too cold for anyone to have to walk that amount of distance and Louis was just the biggest flirt, obviously the number one fan of the one and only Rylan Slash. Harry had found it particularly annoying at the time.

Only now, he thought it was incredibly cute and very flattering, having someone run up to him and just praise. 

Especially Louis' innocent icy blue eyes, staring up at him with complete trust and joy that you would never guess that his boyfriend beats him and calls him bad names.

That's what Harry thought, until his feelings got the best of him and Louis' feelings got the best of him and they just couldn't help themselves. 

He pressed on Boo and pressed call.

One ring, two rings, four rings, then voice mail. His heart sunk when he heard Louis' recorded voice, simply stating to leave a name and number.

Harry quickly closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He knew if he went outside he wouldn't find him. Even if he did Louis would probably flat out refuse. 

He knew because Louis had told him before. He'd told him many of the times they'd lay in bed together, awake until the early hours in the morning, just hot breathed whispering between the two.

Harry coughed twice, getting a drink of water the pulling out the pack of cigs from the tight back pocket of his black jeans. He pulled one out and slid it between his lips, grabbing the lighter on the counter and lighting it, inhaling the hot air.

Louis always yelled at him when he smoked in the house, said he would get lung cancer some day. Harry just rolled his eyes and gave some response like I'll deal with it when it happens.

But now, Louis wasn't there. He was somewhere else and it was killing Harry not to know, he could be with another guy, he could be getting beat up right now. Harry could go out and run after him but instead he was pacing around his cold flat slamming his forehead into the wall.

He winced and groan aloud, ,taking another drag from his cigarette. 

It made some of the pain go away, that's what he told Louis when he'd ask him why he wouldn't just drink a cold glass of water, squeeze some ice cubes, or punch a pillow.

It didn't matter, he thought to himself, running over the black specks on his pillow case from the times he stabbed the cigaret into it, burning the fabric and making it smoke.

He didn't know, this was just easier. It was easier to take the short way, the cheater route and hope he never gets caught.

When Harry went to bed it didn't feel right. Like the covers were too loose and there was just something missing. He knew what it was.  
~~~~~~

For the next week, Harry was anxious and brimming with guilt everyday. Most nights he couldn't sleep at all, the bed still too empty for his liking. 

He began to hate the taste of food, it was sour, bitter, evil, sitting heavily in his stomach. Drinking just coffee, tea, and the occasional hot chocolate, by the eighth day he felt weak, and not just in his muscles. 

His heart ached and he desperately needed Louis to come back. He didn't think an innocent boy could have such a huge impact on him but he was starting to write out the three words at night in his little journal he kept. 

He wrote in it every night, except on the nights he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, haunched over a small lamp near his bed, scribbling away messily.

He was practicing, maybe, for something bigger, better. Maybe Louis would find it and read the three words Harry was so terrified of saying and admitting to.

Those three words that used to make him want to be sick, was now replaced with colourful butterflies, a feeling Harry hadn't remembered feeling in a long time, if ever.

Harry thought that it might've even been worse than when he had to watch over Louis in the hospital, except this time, he didn't know whether Louis was safe or not.

It may have been wrong, but Harry thought more about the possibility of Louis being in another man's arms, cradled against someone else's chest, than being unhealthy, hungry, or cold without a home.

The mere thought of the scent of someone else near Louis made the circles under his eyes darken and his body shift uncomfortably even when he could swear he tried every possible position in his bed. It was selfish and greedy and disgusting but he just couldn't help it.

That wasn't the problem, though. It didn't matter what position he laid in, everything would still hurt.


	31. Chapter Thirty

Maybe Louis was imagining it, or maybe his medicine wasn't working, but he couldn't ignore the burning heat of pain in his abdomen. It wouldn't go away, it followed him around like a black rain cloud, storming on him at the worst times.

He was always careful to take his pills, but he took extra today, chasing them down with a bottle of water he'd gotten at a discount store. 

He felt wrong living out of the car that Travis used to try and drive by and kill him. But there was really nowhere else to go.

Besides home, his mind wondered. Except that wasn't home, he told his mind, at least not anymore and he'd tried to make it clear to Harry but he must have forgotten to make it clear to himself. 

Thinking about Harry was the last thing he wanted to be doing, yet here he was thinking about not thinking about Harry. 

His smell; minty, fruity, sharp and smokey. His hair, softly wrapped around Louis' fingers in the late hours at night like before when he hadn't been alone, instead pressed up against the chest of a person he cared so much about.

The taste of his mouth in his own that he secretly hoped would never disappear. 

He tried washing his mouth out with the water bottle, sitting in the car, parked in a parking lot, spilling water everywhere down his shirt, trying to convince himself.

He could be okay by himself. Some people just weren't meant for lasting relationships and maybe he was just one of them. 

The cold water churned his stomach and raised the hair on his arms. But it reminded him once again, something wasn't right. He thought for a second, but not wanting to over think, about Harry. 

What he'd done to Harry, he knew had probably broken him, and he knew that Harry wasn't exactly the best with coping with stress.

Maybe he should go back, he thought. Something wasn't right- now that Louis thought about it, nothing was right and everything was wrong, terribly wrong so he turned the keys in his car, starting it as fast as he could because the phrase that was repeating over and over in his head was just confirming his fears. 

He knew that the pain wasn't due to his medications, or lack there of, as he sped out onto the street and as fast as he could without getting pulled over. 

Whatever drove him to leave Harry in the first place had all but disappeared for the moment, making sharp turns and wanting to bang his head against something hard to get the screaming voice to quiet down a bit.

It was the stabbing pain in his abdomen and the late night headaches he'd been blaming on the alcohol the whole week he'd been by himself and so much more. It was the phrase echoing around in his head, so loud he screamed it then, alone in his speeding car with wet streams down his face.

"Princess, princess, I can't live without my princess!" Harry had told him, right before he'd left, which was the worst decision he could possibly ever make. 

He pounded on the steering wheel, cursing at the driver in front of him and opting to swerve sharply around them, the roads weren't busy in the least besides that one car and he assured himself that it would always be worth it to risk his life for Harry.

He pulled up the short drive, fully aware that it was almost two in the morning, and almost tripped, stumbling out of his car. He was positive something was wrong, something had happened, and to Harry, the boy in the world who deserved absolutely none of this. He trusted his gut with his life, and in that moment, Harry's as well.

Stopping at the door, he forced himself to breathe because maybe he hadn't in a while but he was feeling rather dizzy. 

He shoved the spare key, the one that Harry had specially made for him so he could get in any time he wanted even though he'd never needed it before, into the rusted door and turned the knob, stumbling inside the house, away from the chilled air. 

The warmth and essence of Harry immediately filled him when he slammed the door on purpose, maybe to stop Harry from doing anything he could possibly be doing. 

He could smell it in the stuffy air of Harry's house, it was all horribly wrong, or maybe it was just the thick smell of smoke that seemed to be wrapping around his head and throat and suffocating him from the inside out. 

"Harry?" He called, eyes red and wild, scanning the room, listening for the faintest noise that might give him a clue as to where Harry was. 

But he heard nothing, scurrying from room to cluttered room, the feeling in his stomach getting worse and worse and heavier and hotter, making him want to be sick.

"Haz? Where are you, are you alright?" He shouted louder through the house, going from room to room, the kitchen, bathroom, living room, all empty and cold.

He began sifting through the things in Harry's room, maybe he'd left a note or /something/ to let Louis know he was alright and this was all just in his head.

He ripped the covers off the bed after almost destroying the dresser, knocking hints over carelessly because he needed to work fast. Air was coming quickly from his mouth, chest rising and falling erratically and heart pumping wildly as he scanned the the bed with shot eyes.

And then he saw it; a crumpled piece of blue lined paper, at the foot of the bed, like he'd written all over it late at night then gave up and tossed it somewhere. 

Louis knew that Harry was the kind of person who thought no one really cared about him, no one would come for him so he could see him just giving up on everyone. 

He picked it up, stared at it for a moment, daring himself to open it and reading it. But he didn't, he had other more important things to do and his throat was starting to close up and he could barely choke out breaths at this point because he was just so sure he knew what every single word on that blue paper said.

He shoved it deep into his pocket and found himself running out of the room and sprinting up the stairs he'd only been up once, taking two at a time. His body moved without his brain's consent, but he didn't need it when he ran into the door at the top of the stairs, shaking and jiggling to handle desperately and thanking whatever god existed when it gave way to his weight.

"Harry, Har-" he stopped short, freezing and stumbling back. He felt his heart skip in his chest, actually skip, and then beat about twice as fast. 

"Louis, don't move," came Harry's voice. But it didn't have the warm, soft tone it always had that was reserved only for Louis. 

Louis obeyed, clamping his mouth shut, willing to do just about anything at the moment. He kept his eyes glued on the hard shine of the black metal, not wanting to see the sickly cold emptiness he was sure was settled in Harry's eyes. 

He knew if Harry's hand moved as much as a centimetre, he'd be gone forever.

"Harry-" 

"Please leave, Louis, I don't want you to watch me do this," Harry cut him off.

But Louis shook his head, bringing his hands out in front of him as he spoke. "You don't want this, Harry, you only think that you wan it," he told him cautiously, voice wobbling with the thickness in his throat.

Except Harry only shook his head, hard, like he was trying to literally shake out thoughts in his head out and onto the floor. His hair flew messily around his face and Louis thought for a second why such a beautiful boy would ever want to end their own life.

But he kept his eyes trained on the gun, he hadn't take them off since he'd entered the room. The barrel was short and shiny black, like Harry'd spent hours before cleaning, planning, reminiscing in it, just leading up to the perfect, twisted finale.

He watched Harry's hand tremble, his mouth gaping at the thought of how slippery, how sweaty his fingers probably were, how easy it would be for them to just.... slip.

"Please, Haz, just put it down, we can talk about this if you want," he told Harry, finally taking his eyes off the sharp black shock of the gun and onto the innocent, naive boy that Harry was. He was only a child, though, so scared of the world while all he wanted was the world to be scared of him.

Louis saw a child who was tortured, trapped inside his own mind, listening and obeying any voices he heard and knowing there was never any way of escape. This innocent child, who only ever received love from his daddy, restless, long nights with the cold bed sheets crumpled into his tiny fists. 

What he saw was Harry, small and teetering on the edge, just one stumble and he would fall forever. 

The room was still all the same, every toy and every fold and crease in the messy bed. It was still exactly how Louis had seen it the last time he'd found himself in the room. It was still cold, freezing even, the window in the back wide, wide open.

"You can look at me, Louis," Harry broke his train of thought, though ignoring his request. Louis slowly, reluctantly dragged his eyes from where they'd been seated in a small corner of the dark, hazed room up to Harry's grey eyes, exactly how he'd imagined them.

He watched Harry's nostrils flare as he breathed in and out, ever so evenly and carefully like a single breath out of place could blow the whole house down. 

Louis then pulled his eyes up to the place where his hair was indented in the side, the quiet shine of it barely visible in the dim, blue room, pressed in firmly against the cold of the gun. It was nuzzled so deep in his hair that Louis couldn't even see the tip of it.

He thought his chest felt like it was sinking into a black pit of nothing and for a moment, he almost didn't care.

A million of his thoughts were buzzing around in his head, whirring in front of his eyes. This was just so strong, though. Of course he wanted to help Harry, but if he said one wrong thing, he could just kiss him goodbye, and probably not even in the literal sense. 

"Can you just," Harry paused and Louis watched him, waiting to help, "do something for me, please?"

And Louis nodded quickly, this was just what he needed, Harry to help him help himself. 

"Of course, Haz," he breathed.

"Could you tell me something, I just need to hear it from you," Harry asked, but he seemed eerily calm, blissed out, like he was in total state of ecstasy in his possible last minutes of living, like the only love he had in that moment was for the cold of the hard metal pressed to his head. The thought made Louis swallow thickly and clear his throat.

"Will you put it down?" Louis meant the gun, but he hated the way it rolled off of his tongue, didn't like actually saying the word. "I-If I say what you want me to say?"

"Maybe," Harry said with thought, teeth chattering from the cool breeze from the open window.

"Then.. yeah. What do you want me to say?" Louis questioned, still not having moved from the place which he froze just a foot inside the door frame.

"Can you say," he watched Harry think, eyes wandering all over Louis' body, Louis suddenly felt very self conscious and straightened up his back, like it would make a difference, "can you tell me that you love me? Like how much, describe it to me," Harry shut his eyes, visibly shuddering, and Louis' questioned if he'd heard him correctly or not.

Louis couldn't just say that, was the thing. It was such a delicate phrase, the three words and they weren't to be played around with. Louis hadn't even thought about them, lately, he had no idea whether he loved Harry or not. 

And the fact that he did or didn't, shouldn't be the reason Harry stays or not. 

"Harry," Harry's eyes snapped open, and he watched Louis like a hawk, gazing at his lips like he wanted to suck the words right out of his lungs, "I can't just come out and say stuff like that without-"

"Oh my, god, I'm going to do it, Louis, fuck, I'm really going to do it," Harry mumbled, voice shaking and face crumbling.

"No! Harry, please, just- I'll say it. I'll say it, I will," Louis thought he was going to pass out from watching Harry's arm snap back up from the position it'd slumped into from just staying there for so long. He didn't want to even blink, scared he might miss something.

"You will? Please, Louis, say it and I won't do it," He spoke, voice breaking over and over again, Louis knew he was starting to break. 

So he nodded, bringing his hand down from clutching where his heart was (something he hadn't noticed he'd been doing), and took a few steps forward along with a few deep, shaky breaths, breathing in the dewy, musky smell of the room. "Harry, words cannot describe how much I love you," he said, ever so cautiously, thinking every single word through, before letting them spill from his mouth, not even knowing if they were the truth or not.

"You do?" Harry asked. He seemed to genuinely believe Louis, so Louis thought that maybe this would work. Yeah, he thought, licking his cracked lips, he could do this.

He nodded again, taking another baby step toward Harry and keeping their eyes locked.

"So much, Haz. Bigger than the world could ever hold, I love you that much," he stopped for a second because he couldn't stop his breaths from coming at a quick pace, meeting his racing heart, "then more". 

He wasn't even sure he recognised the voice that came out of his mouth now. He was only doing this to save Harry and that was it, his heart wouldn't let him do it for his own sake.

Maybe he was seeing things, but he could've sworn that was a smile that flashed across Harry's face for the briefest moment.

Then he was inches from Harry's face, peering into the tired eyes of the boy, the kind of tired that no kind of sleep could ever fix, and breathing in the breaths that came from his pink, cold lips.

He stood on his tiptoes, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other on his face, noticing how cold it was. It was almost like he was already dead.

He traced his fingers down Harry's cheek, the upper part of his open lips, then leaned forward to close the gap.

Harry didn't move. But Louis was determined and pressed his lips harder, gliding his tongue into Harry's mouth and letting his hand roam Harry's arm. 

He peeked at Harry through squinted, blurry eyes, watching Harry's drift shut slowly as he felt him start to kiss back. They hadn't seen each other in a whole week, Louis thought, and his was how they were reunited. 

Harry used his free hand to pull the back of Louis' neck toward him, he was greedy, wanting, needing Louis all to himself. Meanwhile, Louis had something else on his mind. He let his hand drift off of Harry's skin, slowly and carefully moving toward Harry's fingers that were hopefully not wrapped too tightly around the handle of the gun.

He let Harry lick hotly into his mouth, tasting the sharp mint of his breath. Harry was always chewing gum.

Louis felt his finger tips brush against cold metal, and he started to wrap them, taking ahold of it in his small hands, knowing this was probably the only way to get out of this situation safely and with Harry alive.

He quickly glanced up at where his hand was laid over Harry's, together draped over the gun nestled into his hair. Then he began to move. 

Sucking back on Harry's bottom lip, he managed to lower his hand and Harry's arm, along with what was about to steal him away forever.

Harry pulled back, though, "That's it? That's all I've ever wanted to hear," he breathed into Louis' cheek, resting his head on his should and Louis' shivered when he felt Harry's hand bump against his leg, still holding the gun.

But this wasn't what Louis wanted, he pulled away, slipping the gun into his right hand before Harry could stop him and taking a couple steps back.

"I can't just stay here, Harry. You have to understand that what you did to me was wrong," he spoke, carefully, but less because now, Harry had nothing to hurt himself with or hold Louis against with.

"Oh, Lou, I do more than anything, honestly. I'm so sorry, I can't believe I even-" 

"It doesn't matter, Harry. It's done and you can't fix it. You said to me that if you ever, ever hurt me that I had every single right to turn around and run away and never come back," Louis said, unsure of his own words. "I don't feel welcome or safe here, I have to leave. But," he needed to add, "please never ever hurt yourself, Harry". 

He started to turn around, feeling his heart and his face twist with pain. He didn't want to do this, he really didn't, but he didn't want to end up with another boyfriend just like Travis. He knew he was worth more than that, so he needed a boyfriend to who also knew that and would let him know that every day for the rest of his life.

"Wait, please, Louis," Harry called. Louis was almost all the way out the door. He'd been walking slowly, almost hoping that Harry would speak up, do something to stop him from leaving because he couldn't stop himself. "Did you mean it, when you told me that? I-I just really need to know."

Louis knew exactly what he meant. He forced himself to not turn around and look at Harry, or he would never be able to leave him again. 

Had he really meant it when he'd said that he loved him? When he'd told him bigger than the world could ever hold, then more?

He bit his lip until he tasted blood and shook his head, no, staring at the floor.

He needed to get out, needed air. He felt dizzy and like he could vomit at any moment. He ran down the steps with the gun in his hand, careful not to set it off, and out the door, out of Harry's life.


	32. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sequel, Prisoner, will be on my account shortly :)  
> thanks for reading
> 
> This is harry's note

Dear Louis,

Sometimes, I think I'm slipping away. I'm really tired, and I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't really want to do anything. I guess you could say I just get sad a lot. I've been doing this for too long. I'll try to make it so it's easy to understand.

I promise nothing is as chaotic as it seems, Louis. Always remember, nothing is worth your health. Nothing is with dissolving yourself in and poisoning yourself with guilt. But then this is the part where I say, I can't help it. I can't stop myself from literally seeing the germs seep and crawl into my hands and my food or when someone touches me. I can't help but get up in the middle of the night and take laps around the house checking the most stupid things from the door locks to the cleaning soaps under the kitchen sink. I don't know why. Or when I force myself to hold my breath for at least one minute because it's in my head that if I don't then I have to torture myself, it's a cycle, Louis, and it's so incredibly hard to explain to anyone including myself.

Maybe I want control. This is the only part of my life I've been able to control so this is how I spend it; biting my mouth raw and pacing the bedroom at three in the morning. I'm screaming into my pillow that it's too hard to breathe anymore, I want to stop.

Maybe the reason you say your head hurts all the time is because you're sick of me. Are you sick of me? Are you getting fed up with how many times I count the stairs, up and down and up and down, checking, making sure that every time it's the same number? How about the times when I'll stub my toe or something and I can't stop swearing, the word just repeats itself in my head and I can't control my mouth most of the time. Does that annoy you?

Does it make you mad that I refuse to take my medicine? It makes me feel sick when I take it, so I don't. But maybe I don't want to get better. Or maybe I can't, even if I tried so what's it worth trying?

You only left a couple of days ago and I feel like I'm drowning. There's no release, Louis, that release of adrenaline and ecstasy whenever I was with you, I need that release before I explode. It's driving me crazy thinking you're anywhere but with me.

I hope that wherever you went, whoever you're with, that you're safe, and that they keep you happy. Happier than you were with me. But it makes me so mad that they will only kiss you once, they won't make sure it's perfect. They won't kiss you twenty six more times because our lips just didn't slot together the right way and then once more so that it's an even number. It won't be perfect. It'll never be good enough until you're with me. I don't even want to think about it or it might just drive me out the window. It might sound selfish, but I don't think I'll ever be able to stop thinking about it. I'll just let the pattern on the pillow you used burn into my eyelids, cause I can't seem to leave that spot anymore.

I wonder how science can explain that, you know? That actual, physical pain in your chest when all you want in the entire world is to be with someone you can't. I think a lot about if it's worth it, getting your heart ripped out of your chest over and over again only to keep feeding the fire right after.

I want to leave and never come back. I'm exhausted, Lou. Can you tell? I just want to sleep forever. Would you miss me? I feel like no one would ever notice. Maybe I don't want anyone to care. This is getting long and you'll probably never even find it. I'll probably just throw it away as soon as I'm done with it.

You always tell me to never give up. But you gave up on me, just like everyone else, Louis. What I loved the most about our relationship was the trust that we had. We had the kind of trust that could withstand snow storms and plow straight through mountains and then I went a fucked it all up. I hate myself for that, Lou, because you were in a bad situation and I saved you, but then I ruined it. I put you back in the place you desperately wanted to get out of.

I realize that when I shoved you I shattered every tiny piece of trust and hope that we ever had. I like the idea of hope, I love it, it's something for my hands to grip. But I can't stand when people say things like "our only hope" because that means that if hope doesn't work, there's nothing left after that, right? I hope we an have some hope again and that that hope lasts for us, if that makes any sense at all.

I remember when you were in a coma and they told me that if you didn't wake up in the next couple of days then you might never wake up. It scared me to no end so I stayed with you as much as I could. I whispered things to you until you woke up and maybe I didn't looked it, but I don't think I've ever felt happier.

I remember the one time you were a bit tipsy and a little handsy, too, and you told me about how you used write on the walls of a room in your old house. You were slurring and maybe you don't remember telling me but you said that on one side you drew a dash every time Travis kissed you, then on the other side you drew a dash every time he hit you. Then you told me how if the hitting side ever passed up the kisses side you would run away. But when I went to your house to gather your things because you were too hurt to live by yourself, one of the walls was completely covered, Louis, like I couldn't see any of the wall, and I don't think it was the one with for kisses, but you never left?

I wonder if you ever saw hostility and fire burning in his eyes and confused it with love?

I never wanted to become like that, Lou.

But when I'm having a panic attack, which I have a lot of, I don't mean the things I say or do and I can never trust myself to do the littlest of tasks. I overreact to everything and will lash out if you try to do anything to help because I'll just think you're trying to get me. I'll push you so far away and make sure that you think I hate you to the bottom of hell and back but, you have to know that I'm not me when I'm like that. I say things like 'I don't care anymore' but really, I think just saying you don't care is just so much easier than admitting that whatever it is, is killing you.

When I'm having a panicking, I shut off my ability to show love to anyone, something I do so much it feels as easy as walking. I have tunnel vision when I'm stressed and it's so hard to understand where anyone else is coming from. I'll make you feel terrible about yourself and then after you leave to take a break for a bit I'll yell at you and cry and wonder why you went away and why you won't come back. I'll just assume everyone is out to hurt me, it's haunting and not a minute goes by that afterwards I regret everything that came out of my mouth. I feel like I can't stand this pain much longer, my body is too fragile, I'll snap in half, I don't want to be like this anymore. I feel like I could disappear forever and it wouldn't make a difference. Please, save me from my mind cause it's killing me.

I've learned to hate the person I have become, I resent him, Louis, and you have to know that he's not me. The real me loves you to the end of the earth but is so afraid to admit it to himself. He's scared because this is uncharted territory, Lou, I've never felt like this before. Where I get physically weak and light headed and you smile at me in the morning and even we both have morning breath you still roll over and lay on top of me and kiss me breathless. I like the feel of your hands in mine, how dry they feel, how they feel like they could never soak up enough lotion. My hands completely envelope yours and sometimes I wish that I could literally rip open my body and tuck you inside just to keep you safe.

You made me fly. But I know I'm not the only one, also. You get sad, too. I can see your face change the second he enters your mind and I know that you're too scared to tell people how much it hurts so you just keep it all cramped up to yourself. I hate watching you remember the things he yelled at you, remember the times when his words hurt more than the hits he threw. I never want you to go through and feel what I went through and I hate myself for what I said to you the day you..left. I know that words stain like blood but I really just wish you could forget what I said. Do you know how hard it is to get blood stains out of clothes? I didn't mean a thing of it. Never, in my right mind, would I truly think you are self-obsessed or only wanting attention and someone to pity you.

I regret the time we slept together a lot. I regret leaving you afterwards, like I always did. I regret not remembering a second of it. I regret so much and I don't know why I have to mess so much up? I regret it because I know now how much better I could've done. I had it all planned out, the whole thing, Louis- roses, music, dinner date before but instead I got drunk. And I fucked up. And I'm sorry.

I haven't felt this way about someone, maybe ever, and I'm sorry if I keep screwing it up and I don't know how to act right or how to tell you how much I love you. I've never noticed how lonely I actually am until now, when you're not here with me and the only place I get to see you is in my dreams.

You deserve someone who will make love to you whenever you need it, gently, with a tender touch and nothing more. Someone who will cradle and kiss you and caress you like the princess you really are. Sometimes I think that too much love will eventually just kill us all. I hope the next time I see you that you can forgive me, because right now I feel like the only thing I can see when I close my eyes is you, everything you love, everything you do, you make me want to die. Maybe hell really isn't that far away.

I love you so much. I'm going to do it, Princess. It's better than living without you.


End file.
